


Part of the Dance

by AlineRusu



Series: The Daring Adventure of Life [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author is disabled, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Aziraphale loves books, Brain Fog, Canes, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disability, Disabled Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disabled Character, Doctors & Physicians, Doctors Can Be Idiots, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Hypermobility Disorders, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Injury, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mobility Aids, Mobility Aids Are Great, Orthostatic Headaches, Orthostatic Intolerance, Other, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Physical Disability, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Research, Self-Acceptance, Sick Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Supportive Crowley (Good Omens), They Can Be Good Too Though, Walking Canes, Worried Crowley (Good Omens), author has chronic pain, internalized ableism, invisible disability, it just sort of happened, not on purpose though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlineRusu/pseuds/AlineRusu
Summary: "Life had changed in the month and a half since Crowley had found out about Aziraphale’s pain. For the better, as Aziraphale saw it. He no longer had to hide from his demon when he was feeling too poorly to be up and about."A sequel to "The Quality of Mercy." If you want this one to make sense, probably read that one first.In which Aziraphale and Crowley embark on an expedition of research and Aziraphale is still learning to love himself.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Daring Adventure of Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731769
Comments: 261
Kudos: 252





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun with the last one, and people seemed interested, so I decided to continue.
> 
> As always, please be kind to people with disabilities and/or chronic pain. It's real, even if it's invisible to the outside world.
> 
> Love and spoons to you all. (:
> 
> Also, just an FYI, my hands hurt *incredibly* badly right now, so please pardon any typos I may have missed.

Life had changed in the month and a half since Crowley had found out about Aziraphale’s pain. For the better, as Aziraphale saw it. He no longer had to hide from his demon when he was feeling too poorly to be up and about. Crowley was beautifully supportive and never pushed the angel to do or say anything for which he wasn’t ready, and Aziraphale loved him for it. After all, one month of truth after 6000 years of hiding was barely any time at all.

They took each day as it came. Crowley spent most of his time at the bookshop these days, which suited them both nicely, and he would often begin the day by asking the angel how he was feeling. Aziraphale had shared his system for identifying Days fairly early on. The options were Good, Okay, Middling, Bad, and Very Bad. Good meant barely any pain or dizziness and Very Bad meant no standing, barely any moving, and no food.

That being said, Aziraphale sometimes still hedged his bets and said the day above where it really was, not wanting to worry or burden Crowley. He knew he shouldn’t, knew that Crowley truly wanted to help him and be there for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be completely open just yet.

What Aziraphale didn’t know was that Crowley was getting much better at reading the angel’s pain. Over the last month, the demon had discovered that days on the bottom half of the scale were more common than days on the top half. Most days were Middling, with a couple Bad Dayseach week, and one or two truly Good days thrown in for good measure. He didn’t mention his revelation to his angel, thinking (rightly) that it would probably just upset him more than it would help.

One of the side effects of Aziraphale’s new honesty was a drop in the number of outings on which the couple went. Dinners and lunches out of the bookshop decreased to only a few times a week and walks in St. James Park were limited to a few per month. While this saddened the angel, his body thanked him, and he was slowly settling into the more sedentary life.

Part of the reason they didn’t go out as often was because of Aziraphale’s lingering shame surrounding his health. He often refused to go out rather than appear in public with his cane. While he truly loved the beautiful instrument, it was still a visible sign that he was ‘broken,’ and that bothered him. Sometimes in the park people would approach him and ask what was wrong. That particular conversation upset Aziraphale more than most. He couldn’t explain his problem in terms humans would understand, much less believe, and when he stammered and vaguely answered with something about joint pain, the humans usually looked at him with barely disguised pity and sometimes disgust, walking away with a “Hope you feel better soon,” or sometimes even a muttered “He looks healthy enough.” It was comments like this that hurt the angel deeper than any pain his body could produce.

* * *

It was a crisp day in late Fall when Crowley and Aziraphale returned to the bookshop after a walk in the park. Aziraphale had brought his cane and some idiot had made a snide comment about it within Aziraphale’s hearing. Seeing that his angel was working himself up into a bit of a state, Crowley had suggested they repair to the shop for an afternoon glass of wine.

As they walked in the door, bell tinkling lightly, Aziraphale finally lost it. He threw his cane across the room as hard as he could, the tears that had been held back since the park now streaming down his face. Crowley took his arm and helped him over to an armchair. Thankfully, Aziraphale didn’t fight the extra support.

“Why do they have to be so _cruel_?” cried the distraught angel.

Crowley settled on the arm of the seat and pulled his angel to him, letting him bury his tear-stained face in his chest. “Because they don’t know what it’s like, love. They don’t know anything of your struggle or your strength.”

Aziraphale started to say something, but Crowley cut him off before he could continue. “And you _are_ strong angel. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. How else could you have put up with this all on your own for 6000 bleeding years?”

They sat like this for the better part of an hour, Aziraphale slowly calming down as Crowley stroked and kissed his blond hair, whispering words of love and encouragement all the while. Eventually, Aziraphale spoke. “It’s not just that they don’t understand. It’s that I _can’t make them understand_. No matter what, they’ll never really understand because I can’t explain it to them in human terms.” He sniffed.

Crowley took this opportunity to voice something he had been pondering for quite a while now. “Yeah, about that. Angel, I was thinking. Maybe we should look for a human disorder that fits your symptoms. Maybe even see a human doctor about it.”

Aziraphale looked up at him, a mix of confusion and incredulity in his eyes.

“I mean, it’s a human corporation, isn’t it?” continues the demon, not giving his angel any time to argue. “If it’s a human body, then maybe it’s got real human problems. Could be worth a look.”

Aziraphale thought about this for a moment, then nodded. “That… could be true,” he mused.

“Great! Well then, Angel, we’ll start research first thing tomorrow!”

Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley. “Not tonight?”

“Nah,” replied the demon, an impish smile coming over his face. “I’ve got something else in mind for tonight.” He picked up the suddenly blushing and giggling angel and carried him upstairs to their bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Aziraphale woke up to an empty bed. This was unusual. While he did sleep more now, he only did so when Crowley was in the bed with him and the demon almost never woke up before Aziraphale. As he took stock, he smiled. Today would be a Good Day.

The door opened quietly and a very sneaky looking demon entered with a tray of pastries and a pot of tea. He started when he saw the angel sitting up in bed, stretching.

“Aw, damn, Aziraphale!” he almost whined. “You weren’t supposed to be up yet!” He continued over to the bed, placing the tray on the bedside table.

“My dear, did you bring me breakfast in bed?” asked the angel, eyes twinkling.

“Ngk… Yeah…” Crowley rubbed the back of his head, sheepishly. “Thought we should celebrate, I guess.”

“Celebrate?” inquired Aziraphale, mildly confused.

“You know, to next steps and all that.”

Aziraphale looked at this blushing demon and reached out. Crowley took his hand, uncharacteristically shy. “My dear, I just love it when you’re the one who’s…” He paused, letting the demon flinch at the upcoming ‘nice.’ “Soft.”

At this, Crowley blushed harder and let Aziraphale pull him down into a kiss.

Aziraphale gave a little wiggle. “Now, let’s not let the tea get cold.”

They shared the pastries and discussed their plan of action for the day. They decided to begin by cataloguing all of Aziraphale’s symptoms and sort them based on severity and frequency.

“How’re you feeling today, angel?” asked Crowley, trying to feign being casual.

“Well, actually, I think today may actually be a Good Day!” replied the cheerful angel. “I’m feeling quite splendid, to be honest. Surprising, to say the least, after a day like yesterday.”

Crowley nodded, smiling. “Care to join me downstairs, then? I have another surprise for you.”

Together, they made their way down into the bookshop. Aziraphale had decided to open today, since he hadn’t for over a week. As he walked towards the front door to flip the sign he noticed something new next to the cash register. It was a computer. Nothing fancy, but new and shiny and, Aziraphale was tickled to discover, with a little black bow affixed to the top.

“Oh, Crowley!” he exclaimed. He wasn’t sure what to say beyond that. He had no idea how to use a computer.

Crowley walked up behind him. “Thought it might help with the research process. Y’know I’m not big on books, so I thought, I could take care of the internet research, and you could do the books.” He was beginning to look sheepish again.

Aziraphale turned around, some joint in his foot popping softly as he did. “Oh you wily serpent, you.” He ruffled his demon’s hair good-naturedly. “You didn’t think I’d agree to getting one, so you just went ahead and did it anyway, didn’t you?”

Crowley nodded before saying, “Really though, this’ll be loads better than having to go to the library or use our mobiles whenever we want to look something up. And besides! You can use it to make a digital catalogue for your store.”

This idea delighted Aziraphale so much that he determined to actually learn how to use the machine. Eventually, anyway. For this project, at least, he’d stick to his books.

Once they had completed the symptom list, the immortal pair spent the rest of the morning doing research. Occasionally, one of them would pop up from behind the computer or a book and say something like “Oh, my dear, look! This seems promising!” or “Hey angel, come take a look at this.”

Of course, Crowley’s use of the computer made things go a bit faster for him, but Aziraphale still managed to find several historical records of similar ailments throughout the centuries, as well as a medieval book on angelology which seemed to support Crowley’s theory that an angel’s human body could, in fact, suffer human ailments.

They broke for lunch after Aziraphale had successfully scared off the first customer of the day. Aziraphale was feeling pretty good, even after the food, and he surprised his demon by climbing into his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Thank you, darling,” he said, before giving Crowley a quick kiss.

“What, er, what for, angel?” He still got flustered when Aziraphale acted all romantic. Six thousand years of restrained feelings did that to a demon.

“For everything,” replied the angel. “For being so supportive, for convincing me to do this research… for not leaving.” The last one was quieter than the previous two.

Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer. “Oh you silly, _stupid_ angel. I think you should know by now that I’m not _ever_ leaving you. Not when I _just_ got you to admit you love me too!”

Aziraphale looked at him somewhat incredulously. “It’s been four months, dearest.”

“Well, yeah,” the demon gestured to exaggerate his point. “But in the grand scheme of things, that’s barely the blink of an eye!”

“Oh, I suppose it is.” The angel snuggled against his demon’s chest, perfectly content. “Could we be finished with research for the day? I’m feeling in the mood for some reading. Particularly if you would be so kind as to join me on the sofa.”

Crowley grinned and nodded. They settled down for the afternoon, Crowley curled up with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, and Aziraphale with a copy of _The Merry Wives of Windsor_ and fingers tangled in his demon’s beautiful copper hair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> Just wanted to let you know that there might not be another chapter for a week or so. My hands and wrists have decided to rebel and are so loose and painful right now that I can barely type, and on top of that I somehow managed to dislocate one of my fingers. I don't know how long this will last, but things'll be a bit slower. Sorry about that!

Aziraphale hadn’t slept. In the past month, he’d gotten used to sleeping most nights and it had done wonders for his health. The number of days in the upper half of his chart had increased dramatically since he’d begun getting his forty winks. Tonight though, he hadn’t been able to sleep. The day before had been a Middling Day but he had begun to deteriorate as the evening wore on. By the time he and Crowley laid down to sleep, it felt like every joint was falling out of place. He’d continued trying to find a comfortable position but gave up around 4:00 in the morning, crying lightly into his pillow and making sure not to wake the demon sleeping next to him.

Now that it was nearing time to wake up, he had established it would most likely be a Very Bad Day. His muscles were tightening to make up for the looseness in his joints and every joint was, in turn, beginning to send sharp, stabbing pains through his body on top of the normal aches. As he lay in bed, Aziraphale thought about the past weeks. Crowley had been so wonderful and supportive, and Aziraphale really hated how much he imposed on the demon. He knew Crowley would never complain but it couldn’t be easy for him. Staying home and taking care of a part-time invalid wasn’t really the serpent’s style.

As he thought about how happy Crowley got when Aziraphale was feeling well enough to go on walks or have a meal at the Ritz, the angel decided he couldn’t take that away from his beloved demon. He’d pretended for 6,000 years. What was one extra day?

Slowly, he pressed himself up to a sitting position, untangling from Crowley as he did so. His head spun and his vision blurred as he leaned against the headboard, breathing deeply to try and stem the vertigo. Once he regained his senses, Aziraphale glanced down at Crowley laying beside him. The silly demon hadn’t even shifted and was still deeply asleep. If Aziraphale was lucky, he’d sleep the whole day and the angel wouldn’t have to worry about keeping his pain hidden.

_Even so,_ he thought, _I should make my way downstairs. Just in case he_ does _wake up, I don’t want him asking questions._

Thinking this, the Principality carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed and wiggled them a bit to get the blood moving. He grabbed his cane which leaned against the bedside table and shifted up into a standing position. It took him a couple moments to get used to the reorientation, but he managed it. Maybe today wouldn’t be Very Bad after all. He made his way downstairs to his armchair slowly and carefully, stopping to sit down a couple times on the stairs. Once there, the angel contemplated which would make him more tired: getting up again to get tea and a leftover pastry, or just miracleing them up. A twinge from his right ankle decided for him. A moment later there was a steaming cup of tea on the table beside him, a plate of day-old pastry on his lap, and a new pain in his head.

After an hour or so, Crowley came downstairs with hair still sleep-mussed and eyes bleary. “Mornin’, angel,” he mumbled before heading into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. The demon really did like his caffeine.

“Good morning, my dear,” said Aziraphale, as cheerfully as he could muster. When Crowley returned, cup of coffee in hand, he looked much more alert.

“How’re you feeling today, dove?” asked his demon, eyeing the slightly pale angel.

“Oh, you know, dear. Middling.” Aziraphale hated lying. It went against his very nature as an angel, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He tried to make himself look as healthy as possible, trying to will his cheeks to look their normal pink and his hands not to shake as he brought the mug of tea to his lips.

“You ready for another rousing day of research?” teased the demon. Aziraphale, usually so fond of Crowley’s antics, was _not_ in the mood.

“You’re loosing your touch, Tempter. Not making it sound all that fun.” This could be taken in a teasing way, if said properly, but the angel’s tone made that interpretation practically impossible.

“Geez. All right, Aziraphale. Don’t get your pants in a bunch.” He looked at the angel, concern and hurt clear in his for once visible golden eyes.

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m sorry dear, I just didn’t sleep that well. I’ll feel better after this cup of tea.” He hoped that would mollify Crowley. In truth, however, he was beginning to think that perhaps the pastries hadn’t been such a good idea. His stomach was beginning to tighten uncomfortably in the way it did when he ate on a Very Bad day, usually in conjunction with a headache.

It seemed to work. Crowley’s eyes softened, and he went back to drinking his coffee and browsing the internet on his mobile phone. Eventually, he decided it was time to start his day and rose from the couch. “I’m gonna get started, angel.” His voice was tight as he stretched, hands over his head. Aziraphale watched, mildly envious. “I think I was on to something yesterday.” He sloped away into the bookshop.

Aziraphale sighed. It had been a long time since he had stretched like that without the fear of passing out. This was the third day of research and the angel really didn’t feel like it today but if it would make his demon happy, he’d participate. At least there was a comfy chair near the computer. He slowly got up and made his way to said chair without his cane, trying to look as casual as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

His angel was acting a bit odd this morning, Crowley thought. Not that Aziraphale was ever what humans might call ‘normal,’ but he was being unusually snippy with him, and even though he said his day was only Middling, he didn’t get up to hug him when he came downstairs as he usually did. Crowley didn’t want to seem overbearing to Aziraphale though, so he tried not to worry about it too much, even when the usually mild-mannered angel snapped at him. Once Aziraphale explained that he hadn’t slept well, Crowley thought he understood. He was never at his best if he didn’t get a good night’s sleep either.

This was the third day of research, and Crowley was on a roll. He’d found several very promising explanations for Aziraphale’s difficulties and Aziraphale had discovered a number of texts supporting his theory about corporations and human illness. Even the angel’s strange attitude couldn’t put Crowley off for long. Once the demon reached the computer and opened up the previous day’s pages, he delved in with as much vigor as the day before.

He glanced over when Aziraphale entered the bookshop and sat down in his chair (they had moved it closer to the computer so they could more easily show each other what they found) and took a book from the pile on the floor next to him. He looked okay, thought Crowley, and relaxed just slightly.

As ever, they didn’t speak much during their research. There was the occasional word of encouragement or exclamation of enthusiasm when something of particular import was discovered, but otherwise there was very little conversation. Around 11:00, Crowley found something particularly interesting. He vaguely remembered Aziraphale having a collection of books on human anatomy somewhere in his shop, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember where.

“Hey, Aziraphale, I found something here I want to check. You got any books on the autonomic nervous system?”

“Oh!” exclaimed the angel. “Yes indeed. I acquired quite an extensive collection on anatomy and physiology in the late 1990’s. I’m fairly certain one of them is on the human nervous system.” He moved to stand.

“I can get it, angel. Just tell me where it is.” The demon was loath to admit it, but he was more worried than usual about his angel’s health today.

“No, no, dear boy. I haven’t touched them in years and I’m not entirely sure where they are. I’ll just poke about to look for them, shall I?” Before Crowley could object, he wandered off into the stacks.

Crowley humphed. How come his angel couldn’t just keep things in order? “All right, love,” he called. “Just let me know if you need any help.” He was answered with a soft hum of affirmation.

For the next twenty or so minutes, Crowley continued his online research alone. The most promising explanations he had so far discovered were a couple conditions called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. The demon had trouble wrapping his snake-like tongue around the words. “For someone’s sake, why do humans always make everything medical so bloody difficult to say?” he muttered to himself. “Either it’s named after some human with a weird name or it’s all full of science babble.”

Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, specifically the hypermobile variety, was characterized by loose joints, joint pain, and fragile skin, all of which described his angel to a T. The other disorder (which was generally abbreviated to POTS, thank someone) covered just about all the rest of Aziraphale’s symptoms and was considered a form of dysautonomia, a malfunction of the autonomic nervous system. Hence why Crowley wanted that particular book.

A loud thud came from deeper within the bookshop.

“Aziraphale!” shouted Crowley, jumping up and racing into the shelves. No one answered. The demon practically flew through the aisles, searching for his angel. He couldn’t help thinking of the last time he had done this. There was no fire this time, but Crowley was just as scared.

He turned a corner and drew up short. This was one of the aisles that lined a wall and therefore had much higher shelves, the top levels of which could only be accessed by rolling ladders. Crowley stared. There were a number of books scattered on the ground at the foot of one of said ladders and sprawled among them lay a very unconscious Aziraphale.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: There's a small amount of vomit discussed, specifically in reference to POTS-based nausea and pain.

“Shit,” said Crowley. “Shit shit shit.” He ran to his lover’s side and dropped to his knees, inspecting the angel for damage. Aziraphale was a bit the worse for wear, to say the least. He’d hit his head on the floor when he fell and blood was oozing from a split above his right temple, staining his white-blond hair a deep red. Bruises were already beginning to form all along the angel’s body where it had made contact with the floor and the ladder and his hands and feet were an unusual light purple color. The thing that made Crowley shudder the most though, was the odd angle at which Aziraphale’s shoulder was resting.

“Damn it, Aziraphale, why’d you have to go climbing ladders without me there to catch you?” fretted the demon, hands hovering over the angel. He wasn’t sure what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened before, so far as Crowley knew, and he didn’t know if it was better to leave him where he was or move him somewhere more comfortable. In the end, he decided on a compromise and miracled them both up to Aziraphale’s bedroom.

Once there, he set about trying to figure out what to take care of first. Aziraphale had told him that miracles didn’t work when trying to heal anything to do with the corporation’s problems and they had decided it was best to do things the human way when dealing with anything like this. To that end, Crowley had done extensive research about basic human medicine and had even taken a first aid course online.

“Think,” he said to himself. “Stay calm. You’re no help to him if you start panicking.” He took a couple of steadying breaths. “Okay. First, check vitals.” He took Aziraphale’s limp wrist in his fingers and was alarmed to discover he couldn’t feel a pulse. His hand went to the angel’s neck and he relaxed a bit when he found a weak but steady heartbeat. Low blood pressure then.

“Bloody bastard of an angel…” he said, weak with relief. “Don’t scare me like that, you hear?” He continued checking his angel over. He was breathing normally but the cut on the side of his head was still bleeding profusely. That was next then. Crowley remembered from the first aid class that head wounds bled a lot, even if they weren’t deep. The important thing was to apply pressure. He looked around for something he could use as a bandage. Seeing nothing, he sighed and snapped his fingers, a roll of gauze bandaging appearing on the bed along with a bottle of antiseptic solution. As he cleaned the wound, tears started to burn his yellow eyes. The adrenaline from the initial scare was wearing off, letting his emotions come closer to the surface. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Damn it, Aziraphale,” he said again, sniffing.

When Crowley had finished bandaging the cut, Aziraphale’s eyes flickered open. “Oh,” breathed the angel with a wince. “I do feel quite dreadful.”

“No shit, angel!” shouted Crowley, startled by the sudden awakening. He was angry. Angry with himself for not seeing the signs of a fainting episode sooner, angry with Aziraphale for not telling him anything was wrong, angry with the Archangels for doing this to his beloved angel just to save their own pride, and angry with God for not doing anything about it.

Aziraphale flinched away from Crowley’s anger and closed his eyes again for a moment. “I’m terribly sorry, Crowley. I… I didn’t think…” He tried to move and yelped in pain.

Crowley’s eyes softened, his anger dissipating somewhat in the face of his angel’s discomfort. “It’s all right, love. We can do the apologizing later. Don’t try and move. I think you’ve dislocated your shoulder.” He looked again at the misaligned joint. The arm was laying at Aziraphale’s side now, but there was a distinct lump where the humerus sat removed from the socket.

“That,” Aziraphale took in a sharp breath as he looked over to his right shoulder, “seems to be an accurate assessment.” He looked back to Crowley’s worried face. “I truly am sorry, my dear. I didn’t want you to fret. I didn’t think it was going to be this kind of day. I promise I wouldn’t have gone up that ladder if I had thought I was going to—” he broke off abruptly with a sharp intake of breath.

“What’s wrong?” asked Crowley, anxiety rising within him once again as Aziraphale’s face paled slightly.

“Just feeling a bit sick, is all, my dear. Nothing to worry about,” replied the angel. “I really shouldn’t have eaten those pastries this morning. Unless…” Aziraphale reached up to touch his head with his uninjured arm.

Understanding, Crowley reached out with his mind and felt for internal injuries. Satisfied that Aziraphale was not concussed, he gently reached out to stroke his angel’s slightly sweaty hair. “Well, as far as I can tell, you don’t have a concussion, so it must just be your normal nausea. The worst injury seems to be your shoulder here.” He glanced over at it and winced in sympathy. “We’ll need to reset the joint before we can do much else.”

Aziraphale sighed, seeming to resign himself to it. “Yes, I suppose we must. Oh, bugger, this won’t be fun.” He gulped, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“You gonna be sick, angel?” inquired Crowley. He knew that Aziraphale rarely vomited as a result of his everyday nausea but the combination of that and the pain he was in might very well set him over the edge.

Aziraphale shuddered slightly and gulped again, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe deeply. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Crowley miracled up a bucket just in case. “Let’s get you sat up so I can relocate your shoulder, okay?” Aziraphale nodded his assent and Crowley helped him sit, careful to avoid the injured arm. He sat down next to him on the angel’s left side.

Once upright, all the color drained from the angel’s face as he clapped his left hand to his mouth, swallowing. Crowley moved the bucket to Aziraphale’s lap just in time. The angel heaved into it, expelling the contents of his stomach until all that came up was clear bile. Once he was finished, Crowley vanished the mess and wiped the sweat from Aziraphale’s face with a cool cloth he’d miracled up. “There, dove. It’s okay. Better out than in.”

Tears were trickling down Aziraphale’s pale cheeks as he breathed heavily. He rested his head on Crowley’s chest, burrowing into him slightly. Crowley wrapped his arms around his love, trying to comfort him. “I know, my darling. I know it hurts. It’ll feel better once I get it back in place. I promise.” They sat like that for a couple more minutes, Crowley gently rocking Aziraphale as the angel’s breathing evened out. Eventually, Aziraphale sat up again and nodded, indicating he was ready.

Crowley was a bit nervous. He’d never actually done this before, but he’d done his research. He knew that human doctors often put their patients to sleep to relocate a shoulder but he wasn’t sure that would be a good idea in this situation. “D’you, erm… Would you like me to put you to sleep before I do this?” he asked.

Aziraphale shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think that would be advisable at the moment. I did just faint, after all, and we don’t really know why. Best to stay awake.” He swallowed again, this time from anxiety rather than nausea. “I’ve never… I’ve never really completely dislocated anything before, Crowley. Usually it’s a temporary thing. A joint pops out for a moment and then just pops back in after I move.”

Crowley nodded. “Don’t worry, angel. It’ll be over in a minute. You can grab my thigh though, if you want. I’ll need both hands to fix your shoulder.”

Aziraphale nodded and gripped Crowley’s leg tightly with his left hand. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Crowley reset the joint as quickly as he could, rotating the arm until the joint popped back into place. Aziraphale tried to bite back a scream and dug his fingers into the demon’s thigh hard enough to bruise. Once Crowley was finished, the angel was trembling and crying from a combination of relief and pain.

The demon took his angel into his arms once more and held him gently, letting the tears soak into his black blazer. After a moment or two, Aziraphale pushed away from Crowley and bent over the bucket again to vomit up more bile, a delayed reaction to the pain of the resetting. Crowley rubbed his back and murmured comforting words as the angel continued to dry heave over the receptacle.

Crowley vanished what little sick had actually come up and once again ran the cool cloth over his angel’s face. (The cloth knew its job and had quickly made itself cool and damp once again.) They sat together on the bed, Aziraphale cradling his right arm and Crowley holding Aziraphale close.


	6. Chapter 6

Now that the angel’s major injuries were pretty much as fixed up as could be, Crowley started to sag with relief. “Go—, Sata—, _someone_ , angel. You scared me back there in the bookshop.”

Aziraphale looked up into Crowley’s watery golden eyes, tears in his own blue ones. “I know, my darling. I _am_ sorry. I didn’t want to spoil anything because of how I was feeling.”

“Angel, love, you don’t spoil anything when you aren’t feeling well. I _know_ you hide the true extent of your pain from me at times and I _know_ that you sometimes do things you shouldn’t when you’re feeling poorly. But really, I don’t mind if we go on fewer walks in the park, or if we eat in more often than we used to. All I care about is being with you, no matter how you’re feeling.” Crowley stroked the angel’s damp hair as he held him.

“But,” said Aziraphale softly, “you always look so happy when we go out together. And I want to make you happy, dearest.”

“Of course I’m happy when we go out, you stupid angel!” exclaimed the demon, endearingly. “When you agree to go for a walk in St. James to feed the ducks or for a dinner at some new little restaurant down the way it means you’re feeling well enough to do it! Or it’s supposed to, at least. I’m happy to be with you wherever, whenever, however, regardless of how you feel on a given day. And yeah, maybe I do like to go for walks in the park, but the main reason I like those walks is because I’m with you. Who else will get miffed with me when I mess with the ducks?”

By this point, Aziraphale was crying again. He looked up at Crowley through his tears. “You really oughtn’t to, dear. They get ever so anxious when you try to sink them…”

Crowley laughed at that. “That’s not my point, Aziraphale. _My point is_ , that I enjoy being with you, regardless of the circumstances. Walks and outings not required. Though I do prefer you conscious and uninjured.” He pressed the angel to his chest and kissed the top of his head.

Aziraphale giggled a bit at that. “Yes, I must say I prefer that as well.”

After another half hour or so of reassurances and cuddling, Crowley stretched. “Well, angel. We should probably finish taking care of you, huh? There’s some of that arnica stuff you said helps with bruising in the bathroom. And I think we should probably put your arm in a sling. That’s what the internet says to do, anyway.

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, that sounds right. I’ll just…” He tried to push off the bed into a standing position but sat back down quickly as his knees started to buckle. He humphed in frustration. “Darling, would you..? I don’t think I can quite…” He blushed from embarrassment as he spoke.

“Angel, you don’t seriously think I’d let you get up right now, even if you said you could?” Crowley said teasingly as he stood.

“Well, my dear, normally I would be quite miffed with that intention, but considering my prior dishonesty and the results thereof, I will let it pass.” Aziraphale wobbled on the bed, seeming to lose his balance for a bit without Crowley’s support. “Actually, I _am_ feeling quite dizzy and still fairly ill. Perhaps a lie down would be of benefit. Things spin when I move my head.” He looked up at Crowley, eyes slightly unfocused.

“Yeah. Yeah, angel. Seems like a good idea.” He leaned in to help his companion lay down without jostling his injured shoulder.

Aziraphale sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. “That’s better. Everything is spinning less now.”

Crowley was making his way to the door when he heard his angel speak softly from the bed. “Thank you, Crowley. For helping me. I’ll try to be more forthcoming in the future.”

The demon ducked his head, blushing slightly. “Any time, angel.” He scuttled from the room to get arnica, hot and cold packs, and a sling.

* * *

Aziraphale settled back into the softness of his bed. He felt terrible, physically and emotionally, and was completely exhausted. He took a moment to catalogue the various aches and pains throughout his body now that it wasn’t overwhelmed by the agony of a dislocated shoulder. _Well,_ he thought, _that’s a good place to start._

Although it felt much better than it had before Crowley reset the joint, his shoulder was still definitely the most prominent source of pain. Second was the sharp twinge on the side of his head. Probably a cut from when he’d fallen off the ladder. Next were the various sharp aches he knew would develop into bruises if they hadn’t already. Those were pretty much universal over his entire body. His stomach hurt still, but he didn’t think he was going to be sick again. This sort of ill was more along the lines of the standard Bad Day nausea he was used to rather than the gut-wrenching pain of before. Most of the other sensations he was experiencing were more normal as well: he was dizzy, his joints ached, and his chest hurt.

Aziraphale sighed. He knew he’d hurt Crowley by staying silent about his discomfort. How ironic that the actions he had taken to protect his beloved from the emotional strife of worrying about him had, in fact, caused more worry than would have been present if he’d just been honest. The fact that Crowley was being so kind and gentle made the angel’s chest ache in an entirely different way. How could he justify this? Not just to his demon, but to himself.

After several minutes of contemplation, Aziraphale heard Crowley come back into the room with the promised medical supplies.

“I found the arnica. Took a bit longer to get the sling though.” The demon reached the bedside and sat carefully. “Think you could sit up?”

“Yes, dear, I think so.” Aziraphale shifted his weight to his left side so he could push himself into a sitting position. His wrist and elbow cracked loudly, yelling at him, and he started to sink back down.

Strong hands grasped his uninjured shoulder, helping him upright.

“Thank you, dear boy. I should have known better,” breathed the angel as his head began to spin once more and his heart rate spiked. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

That made Crowley blush. Aziraphale did love it so when he was able to make his demon blush. “You’d do just fine without me, angel. You always have before.” Crowley paused, looking sad and Aziraphale glanced away, ashamed. “Come on, love. Let’s finish patching you up,” he said eventually.

It wasn’t too bad, really. Crowley rubbed arnica gel over all the places that were bruising (which was most of Aziraphale’s body), gently helped him secure his injured arm in the sling, and settled some hot water bottles on areas that most often gave the angel trouble. Finally, Crowley pulled out a bottle of paracetamol and gave a dose to the angel, helping him steady the cup of water as he drank.

Even though the whole process was relatively painless, sitting up had made Aziraphale completely exhausted once more. He gestured to the demon to sit beside him. As Crowley joined him on the bed, propping himself up on the headboard, Aziraphale was reminded of Crowley’s original form. He always seemed to slither rather than walk, and the angel loved it. He shifted so he could lean into his beloved.

“Crowley, dear, we need to have a conversation. Er, really, it’s more that _I_ need to have a conversation. Hmmf…” He paused for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts from his clouded mind. “I mean, well, what I mean to say is that I want to be clear.” Bugger, the words weren’t working. “I mean, to be like this is important, you know?” He wasn’t making any sense, and he knew it. Crowley placed a finger to Aziraphale’s lips to stop the halting flow of confused words.

“Angel, we’ll talk. I promise. But right now, you need rest; you’re way too foggy to have a proper conversation right now.” He moved his fingers to the angel’s temple. “I can help, if you’d like.” They had discovered that the one thing they _could_ do with miracles was help Aziraphale sleep, though he’d gotten better at doing it on his own in the past few months.

Aziraphale nodded, eyes going a bit glazed. What had they been talking about? He couldn’t remember. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but suddenly he couldn’t make words form.

“It’s fine, angel,” said the being sitting next to him. “We’ll talk in the morning. Promise.”

Then, all at once, Aziraphale fell into a deep, restful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn’t often that Aziraphale dreamed as he slept. This time though, he dreamed of the past.

_He knew he was dreaming because there was no pain. He was in heaven. Completely free and weightless. Calm, placid, peaceful. Loved. He had just received his orders to guard the Eastern Gate of Eden and protect Her newest creations. He was going to be given something called a corporation by the Archangels so he could exist more comfortably with the humans._

_When he put it on, it hurt. He knew the strange feeling was pain this time. He thought about mentioning it, but it didn’t seem important. It was mild. He’d be fine._

_Suddenly, he was with Crowley on the Garden Wall. He hurt more than he had when they had actually had their first meeting. He was dizzy, his heart rate was through the roof, and his legs began to give way beneath him._

_Strong arms caught him. “Angel, what’s wrong?”_

_Aziraphale paused for a moment before saying, “It’s a Bad Day, my dear.”_

_Crowley nodded before pulling the angel close and wrapping him in his dark wings. It wasn’t his voice that answered, but that of an unfathomably strong woman.“That’s okay, my darling. Thank you for telling me.”_

_As Aziraphale relaxed into his demon’s arms, he began to understand._

* * *

It was still strange to Crowley that an angel could trust a demon to watch over them as they slept. After he had shifted the sleeping Aziraphale down into a horizontal position, he sat there on the bed just gazing at this beautiful gift the universe had given him. He still had difficulty wrapping his mind around the fact that Aziraphale loved him, and not just in the angelic ‘being of love’ way. He stroked his angel’s curls as he slept. It had only been around 1:30 in the afternoon when Crowley had put the angel to sleep and Crowley was perfectly content to continue standing guard over his beloved until he woke.

Aziraphale, however, slept for the rest of the day and into the night. Crowley decided to go to sleep as well. Strictly speaking, he didn’t _need_ sleep, but he’d gotten so used to it that he could be a real bear if he didn’t get a solid 6 hours at least.

* * *

When Aziraphale woke he felt sunshine on his face and the warmth of love at his side. He reveled in it for a few moments before wincing. His shoulder was throbbing sharply. He sighed, remembering the few moments of his dream where he had felt no pain. Gently, he stretched, left shoulder and back cracking several times and a wave of dizziness overtook him.

Crowley shifted beside him and snuggled into Aziraphale’s waist, throwing an arm across his slightly rotund belly. “G’mornin’ love. Sleep well?” He gazed up at the angel with pure adoration.

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand from his side and kissed it gently. “The best I’ve ever had. Now get over here and kiss me properly, you beautiful serpent.”

Crowley obliged and slithered up to press his lips gently to Aziraphale’s. His good morning kisses were always like that: sweet and soft and adoring.

When the Angel pulled back, he looked into the demon’s face. There, he saw a depth of love that even he, an angel, a being literally _made_ from Her divine love, could barely fathom. He felt it reflected in his own face and heart.

“Crowley, I dreamed last night,” said the angel, somewhat abruptly.

Crowley continued to gaze at him. “Not a bad one, I hope?”

“No. Not at all, actually. I dreamed of us on the Wall, but instead of what actually happened, you asked me what was wrong, and I told you. Then you spoke with Her voice and told me it was okay.”

Crowley made a face. “Don’t go telling anyone that last bit, angel. My demonic reputation is already under enough stress as it is without rumors of me prophesying directly from God.”

Even through his protestations, though, Aziraphale could tell that Crowley was touched. He laughed. “Of course not, darling. Though I must say, the way your face scrunches up when you’re trying to be all demonic is downright adorable.” The angel tweaked Crowley’s nose.

Crowley made another face and batted the hand away. “How are you feeling today, angel? Other than being a merciless tease?”

Aziraphale thought of his dream and said “Truth be told, I think it might be a Bad Day, my dear.”


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the morning was spent lounging in bed, just existing together. Crowley went downstairs and made them some tea at one point but other than that the pair just snuggled and enjoyed each other’s company. Eventually, around 10:00, Aziraphale asked for the demon’s help to get downstairs. He remembered vaguely that he had wanted to talk to Crowley about something, but he couldn’t quite place it. One of the unfortunate side effects of his moments of confusion was short-term memory loss.

When they had reached the back room and settled in, Aziraphale tried to jog his memory. “Dearest, I remember wanting to talk to you about something yesterday, but I can’t quite recall what it was. Did I say anything that might have given you a clue?”

Crowley’s brow drew together as he tried to remember. “Dunno, angel. You were really out of it by the end there. You said something about wanting to be clear?”

“Ah! Yes, that was it,” exclaimed Aziraphale. “It’s beginning to come back to me. Give me just a moment to collect my thoughts.” He closed his eyes, thinking, trying to remember.

Crowley went into the kitchen to make some more tea. When he returned, Aziraphale’s eyes were open and he looked ready for a serious conversation.

“Angel, this isn’t goin’ to be another one of those ‘Oh, I don’t want to tell you when something’s wrong ‘cause it might upset you’ conversations, is it?”

That made the angel smile, sheepishly. “No, dear. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

That made Crowley’s eyebrows raise. “No kidding? Well then, let’s get down to it.” He handed Aziraphale a fresh mug of tea.

The angel took a deep breath. “I’ve come to realize that I haven’t been a very good partner to you.”

Crowley held up a hand. “Angel, if you’re just going to tell me things you think you’re doing wrong, then I will be _most_ displeased.” He slipped into his ‘nanny’ voice for a moment, ready to chastise and correct.

“Oh, no! That’s not where I was going with this at all. I mean to say, I’d like to discuss some ways to improve communication and honesty between us.” Aziraphale spoke quickly, as though he was eager to get it out. “I know that it’s important for two people in a relationship to be completely honest with each other and I know that it has been difficult for you when I hide how I’m truly feeling.”

The demon nodded but stayed silent, encouraging Aziraphale to continue.

The angel swallowed. He was nervous. He was never very good at admitting to failures, let alone trying to fix them. “Well, I have decided that I would like to be truly and fully honest with you. That being said, you know how wretched I am at admitting to when something is wrong, regardless of why, so I thought we could talk through some ideas to sort of… oh, ‘force’ isn’t the right word… _oblige_ me to be truthful.” He looked down, worried despite himself.

“Brilliant, angel!” said Crowley, much more enthusiastically than Aziraphale expected. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I know, I’m a demon and I’m supposed to like the whole lying business, but it’s different when it hurts the one I love.”

“I know it is, dearest. And I’m sorry.” He interrupted Crowley before he could protest that there was nothing to be sorry for. “I _am_ sorry, and yes, there is something to apologize for. I was acting selfishly by keeping my pain to myself. I _know_ all you want to do is help and be there for me. It’s just been so very long that I’ve dealt with this on my own and I’m not really sure how to accept help. From anyone, let alone someone who will empathize with me. I love you and I want to keep you safe. That thought twisted itself into some perverted idea that I was protecting you by keeping my pain from you. I know now that I was wrong. I want to let you in. Completely.”

Crowley got up from the couch where he had been lounging and kneeled down beside Aziraphale’s arm chair. “Love, you have _no idea_ how happy that makes me.” He took his angel’s hand and kissed it gently, lovingly, just as he had over a month ago when Aziraphale first told him about his pain. He stood and miracled up a notepad and pencil. “Let’s do it, then!”

The angel smiled. Trust Crowley to get right down to it. “Very well, my dear boy.”

They talked for hours. Not just about strategies for honesty, but also about empathy and love, happiness, sorrow, anger and forgiveness. In the end, they had created two lists which were written down by Crowley as follows:

Ideas To Help Aziraphale Be More Truthful (In No Particular Order)

  1. Crowley will ask what sort of day it is each morning.
  2. If Crowley notices Aziraphale is deteriorating, he will reiterate the question.
  3. Aziraphale will tell Crowley whenever something specific happens that makes things worse.
  4. Crowley will not try and ‘fix’ the problems when they arise.
  5. Crowley will tell Aziraphale whenever something (not necessarily Aziraphale-related) upsets or hurts him as well to foster mutual honesty.
  6. Aziraphale will tell Crowley about events in his past which were affected by his pain.
  7. Aziraphale will write notes to Crowley when he finds it too difficult to say things out loud.
  8. Aziraphale will tell Crowley if he is feeling particularly guilty/ashamed about his health.
  9. We will come up with a code word or phrase that means Aziraphale wants to leave a situation for any reason related to his health.
  10. Aziraphale will tell Crowley about the good parts of his day too, not just the bad parts.



Ideas To Help Crowley Empathize with Aziraphale’s Pain (Also In No Particular Order)

  1. Crowley will read books (or watch films) about people with chronic pain/other chronic health issues.
  2. Aziraphale will try to come up with metaphors to describe his pain.
  3. Crowley will ask Aziraphale whenever he is curious or confused about something relating to Aziraphale’s health.
  4. When asking, Crowley must be as specific as possible.
  5. Aziraphale is allowed to refuse to answer. (Seriously, Aziraphale, don’t force yourself to answer if it makes you too upset.)
  6. We will switch forms for 24 hours once for each of Aziraphale’s ‘Days’ so he can experience what it’s like, at least short-term, i.e. once when it’s a Good Day, once when it’s an Okay Day, etc.



When the pair had finished, Aziraphale was smiling. “I feel good about this, Crowley.” He miracled the lists onto the refrigerator with a wave of his hand.

“Me too, angel. I can’t wait to swap forms with you again!” Crowley gave a very Aziraphale-like wiggle.

That comment made Aziraphale frown, slightly. “You know dear, it won’t be pleasant. You remember the last time…”

“I know, but it will help me understand you better and that’s worth any amount of pain on my part,” smiled the demon.

Aziraphale hummed, touched. “Well, I think we ought to work our way up, starting with a Good Day. Just so you can get used to it. I don’t want to throw you in the deep end.”

“Good thought,” mused Crowley. “Well, now that we’ve finished that, I want to talk to _you_ about something.”

That worried the angel, just a bit. “Oh? And what would that be, my dear?” he inquired, somewhat nervously.

Crowley continued. “I know that you’re open to seeing if we can find a human disorder that fits your experiences, but you’ve seemed rather resistant towards finding a human doctor that could diagnose and treat you.”

It was true. Whenever Crowley brought it up, Aziraphale either said something ranging from noncommittal to downright hostile, or changed the subject as quickly as possible.

“Well…” began the angel.

Crowley interrupted. “I can see why you might not want that, but really, I think it would be a good idea. These disorders that I’ve found seem really promising, and there _are_ things that can make them better. Not gone, sure, but certainly improved. I think that seeing a doctor, what do humans call them? A specialist? I think seeing a specialist could really improve your quality of life. Not to mention you’d have professional backing to justify your experiences.”

That last point hit the nail on the head with Aziraphale. “Ohhhh…” he breathed, understanding. “You… you’re right, aren’t you? To be able to have a reason, and undeniable reason for it all… Something I could explain to the humans. That would be… that would be a miracle.” He looked over to his demon, once again splayed out on the sofa. “Yes. All right. Yes. Let’s find a doctor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of doing a separate story detailing Crowley and Aziraphale's switches. It probably won't get mentioned much in the rest of this story.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Idiot doctors, descriptions of a couple medical tests

Three weeks after the incident in the bookshop, Aziraphale was stretching his recently healed shoulder as Crowley made tea. The couple had elected to wait for Aziraphale’s shoulder to get better before they went to a doctor. In the meantime, they had continued their research and began implementing the strategies they had come up with to encourage honesty and empathy. It was slow going but Aziraphale was slowly beginning to find it easier to be truthful with his demon, and Crowley was getting better at being sensitive about his angel’s emotions.

As Crowley came back into the room with the tea, he watched Aziraphale’s motions with interest. He had just checked on the injured joint and deemed it back to normal. Or at least as normal as Aziraphale’s joints ever got. The relish with which the Principality was stretching his arms was evident on his face, and Crowley loved it. He could almost taste the relief his darling angel must be feeling at being able to move freely again. After another few moments of stretching, Aziraphale spoke.

“Well, darling, I suppose now that my shoulder is healed, we should think about getting an appointment with that doctor we found!”

This surprised Crowley. Even though the angel had agreed to see a human healer about his condition, he hadn’t spoken of it with particular gusto, and he’d never brought up the subject himself, always relying on Crowley to broach the topic. The demon stared for a moment before answering. “Yeah, sure thing. You wanna do it the human way, or miracle one?”

Aziraphale pondered this for a moment. “I suppose it depends on how long the wait is and whether we’d inconvenience anyone if we used a miracle.”

Crowley quickly grabbed his mobile and looked it up. “Looks like there’s an appointment for next week!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, that soon already?” asked the angel. “There must have been a cancellation or something. I’ve heard it can take ever so long to get appointments with these types of doctors. Erm, what type is it again, my dear?”

“Cardiologist,” said Crowley, still looking at his phone.

“Right, that was it. And the other sort is a rheumatologist. Well! I’ll call to set the appointment, shall I?” He went over to his desk where the old-fashioned telephone sat.

“No need, angel. Just scheduled it online.” The demon grinned. “Particularly demonic invention of my own, if I do say so myself.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Well, good then. Now all we have to do is wait!”

Crowley grinned back, slyly. “Yeah, though I can think of a few things I’d like more than just sitting around and waiting.”

The angel flushed a bit and went over to his demon. “Well, I suppose that could be arranged.” He leaned down and kissed Crowley gently before leading him upstairs.

The day of the appointment was a Good Day. Aziraphale had expressed that he was both pleased and worried by this: pleased because Good Days made everything so much easier, and worried because he didn’t have any proof that what he was saying was true. At 1:30, an hour before the appointment, Crowley parked the Bentley in the hospital car park, fairly close to the entrance. He stretched out a hand to cover his angel’s shaking ones. “Don’t worry, dove. It’ll be fine,” he soothed, smoothing his thumb over the back of Aziraphale’s fingers.

“Yes, yes, dear. I know,” replied the angel, obviously filled to the brim with anxiety.

Crowley brought the hand he was holding to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not… not too badly, considering.” Aziraphale paused and sighed. “I’m nervous. Anxious.”

The demon chuckled. “I think that could be said about you on most days. Come on, angel. Let’s go inside.”

They had been told to arrive forty-five minutes early so they could fill out some paperwork. It turns out it was also because the clinic was ridiculously difficult to find. It took them around fifteen minutes to find it, wandering around the first two floors of the building, trying to read the incomprehensible maps. When they finally got there and checked in, Aziraphale sat heavily in one of the plastic waiting-room chairs.

“Goodness, but that was a bit of a trial!” He looked at the forms the man at the front desk had given him and frowned. “Crowley, we really should have prepared more. There are so many questions!”

“Don’t worry, angel,” reassured the demon. If there’s anything we can’t answer, they’ll just forget it was needed in the first place.” He gave Aziraphale a cheeky grin and winked. “Can’t have ‘em finding out you’re more than 6000 years old, now can we?”

Crowley was delighted by the faint blush that seemed to sneak up Aziraphale’s cheeks at that remark. “Very well, dear, but don’t go altering too many things. We do want this to be accurate, after all. And remember, please don’t try to answer the doctor’s questions for me. I want to do this myself.”

Crowley nodded. “Quiet as a mouse, I am. Just there for moral support.”

They answered the questionnaires as best they could, making up some things like birthdays and unrelated medical history. They decided to say that Aziraphale had been adopted. That would eliminate questions about family history. Finally, they were shown into a tiny room with white walls, two chairs, and an examination bed.

“Mr. Fell?” asked the nurse. Aziraphale, or ‘Mr. Augustin Z. Fell,’ raised his hand shyly. “Good to meet you, Mr. Fell! Before the doctor comes in, I just need to get some baselines done. Could you hold out your right arm, please?”

Aziraphale obliged. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around the angel’s upper arm. He tensed, slightly, and Crowley surreptitiously took Aziraphale’s left hand in his own, squeezing gently. He tried to impart a sense of calm and wellbeing to his angel. _‘’S okay, angel. Nothing to worry about,’_ he thought. New situations always made Aziraphale nervous, especially when they were high-stakes. Thankfully, his angel seemed to understand and relaxed a bit.

That done, the nurse turned to a strange looking machine sitting next to one of the chairs. “Okay, good. Now I just need to do an EKG and we’ll be done. Would you mind taking off your shirt?”

Aziraphale tensed again. No matter how many times Crowley told him he was beautiful just the way he was, 6000 years of that idiot Gabriel criticizing his corporation still won out.

“I… I’d rather not, if that’s an option,” stammered the angel. Crowley was proud of him for saying what he felt rather than just going along with it.

“Of course. I’ll still need you to lift it up a bit though.” Crowley moved his hand to Aziraphale’s back and rubbed little circles there, reminding him it would be fine.

Aziraphale nodded and obliged, looking gratefully up at the demon. “Yes, that’s fine.”

The nurse proceeded to place sticky pads all over Aziraphale’s torso and chest. Crowley had read about these tests and had described them to his angel, but hearing about them and experiencing them were two different things. Cords were attached to the pads and the nurse instructed Aziraphale to sit as still as possible and not to speak. With one last affirming squeeze of his angel’s shoulder, Crowley withdrew his hand, knowing it might affect the results. Once that was done and the pads had been removed, the nurse left the room, telling them that the doctor would arrive shortly.

Aziraphale slumped a little in his seat once the door closed. “Goodness, Crowley. I don’t know if I can do this.” He buried his face in his hands.

“You’re doing great, love,” the demon replied. “I read that most humans are afraid of going to the doctor as children.” Aziraphale sat up, looking a bit scandalized. Crowley hurried to clarify his statement. “Not that you’re a child, or anything. I just mean, it’s always scary for them the first few times, then they get used to it. So, since it’s your first time going to a doctor, it’s bound to be a little scary.”

That seemed to reassure the angel a bit. Before he could say anything in reply, though, the doctor entered the room. He was a tall man in his early 50’s with short grey hair, black trousers, and a blue necktie. As he came in, Aziraphale stood to shake his hand.

“Dr. Braddock? It’s wonderful to meet you. Thank you ever so much for seeing me.” Crowley disguised a chuckle with a small cough. Trust his angel to go from terrified to cordial greetings in an instant.

“My pleasure, Mr. Fell. And this must be your husband?” He turned to Crowley. The forms had said only immediate family and spouses were allowed into the examinations, so they had said that they were married. Thank someone for legalized same-sex marriage*.

(*Actually, thank Aziraphale for legal same-sex marriage. He’d been the one convincing various governments that it was a good idea. It was a work in progress.)

Crowley smiled thinly. He’d reserve judgement on this man until after he’d seen him in action. “Yeah, that’s me,” he replied, taking the offered hand. “Anthony.” At least this man seemed like he wouldn’t give them any trouble on that front.

“Right. So, Mr. Fell, you’ve been having some problems with your heart, have you?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, indeed.” They had discovered during their research that it was supposedly best to focus on the issues in which a given doctor specialized.

“Could you tell me specifically what’s been troubling you?” He opened his computer and began typing away as Aziraphale spoke, listing the heart-based symptoms as well as a couple others they thought could be related.

The doctor looked up after he finished. “Okay. Which of those is giving you the most trouble, would you say?”

“Probably the increased heart rate,” replied Aziraphale, nervous again. “It makes it difficult to stand up and as a shopkeeper, that can be a problem.” The angel began clasping and unclasping his hands. Crowley stepped in behind him again for comfort.

Dr. Braddock looked at his charts. “Well, your EKG and blood pressure look fine. Pulse-ox too.” He frowned. “You know, it is normal for the heart rate to increase somewhat upon standing.”

Aziraphale looked stricken. “Yes…” he said hesitantly.

“I know it can be surprising sometimes, but with your build it’s not uncommon for it to take a couple minutes for your heart to calm down after you stand or do something physical.”

Crowley glowered at the man. _Now_ he was judging him. The demon placed a hand gently on Aziraphale’s shoulder and squeezed. He stayed silent, honoring Aziraphale’s earlier request that he not get into it with the doctor. He was there for moral support, nothing more.

“Well, yes…” said a nervous Aziraphale. “But I do believe there is something a bit more going on.”

The doctor sighed and glanced at Crowley, noting the hand on the angel’s shoulder. “Well then, have you considered that you may be suffering from anxiety? The symptoms you mentioned are all common in a variety of different anxiety disorders. I can give you a referral to a good therapist I know who specializes in that sort of thing. The thing is, according to these readings and what you’ve told me, I don’t think there’s really anything wrong.”

Crowley fumed silently. How _dare_ this man, this _human_ , not take his angel seriously?

Said angel was shutting down rapidly now, shrinking into himself and growing more and more reticent as the conversation went on. The doctor continued explaining why Aziraphale was _perfectly fine_ physically for another few minutes. It felt like an hour to Crowley. Finally, the man rose and walked to the door.

“Well, it was good to meet you, Mr. Fell, Anthony. I’ll send that referral over to your GP in the morning. You’re free to go. Have a good rest of your day.” With that, he left.

Crowley walked around to the front of the chair where Aziraphale sat. He expected a distraught expression, maybe even some tears, but instead he was greeted by a blank face and a tense jaw. “Aziraphale,” he began. The angel interrupted.

“Let’s go, Crowley. Let’s just leave. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Crowley nodded and opened the door for his angel, following him out of the medical complex.

Aziraphale didn’t drop his stone-faced countenance until they were safely in the Bentley. As soon as Crowley shut the driver side door, the stern expression melted from Aziraphale’s face like hot wax rolling down the sides of a candle. He looked distraught and broken. Tears leaked from his downcast eyes as he tried to maintain his composure. He sniffed, swiping at his face.

The demon hesitated a moment before stretching a long-fingered hand out to grasp Aziraphale’s own. That seemed to be the last straw. The angel collapsed into Crowley’s waiting arms, sobs bubbling up in his throat.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet angel…” murmured Crowley, quickly miracleing them into the back seat. He pulled Aziraphale closer to his chest and softly whispered words of reassurance into his blond curls. Slowly, the sobbing faded to hitched breaths and silent tears.

“Want to talk about it?” he inquired, once he had determined Aziraphale was calm enough to speak.

The angel shook his head. “Just take me home. Please.”

Crowley nodded and pressed a kiss to his angel’s cheek. “Of course, dove.” He miracled them back into the front of the car and headed home. If Aziraphale noticed that the demon didn’t go quite as fast and seemed to drive with much more caution than usual, he didn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People with dysautonomia often find it incredibly difficult to find a doctor who will take them seriously. For some, it can take years. POTS and other forms of dysautonomia are very commonly mistaken for anxiety, especially in women.  
> The interactions with the doctor in this chapter are actually ones I had with the first cardiologist I saw. If you work in the medical field, please believe your patients and don't dismiss them just because they aren't visibly ill at that moment or because they're a woman, person of color, etc.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brief discussion of fat-phobia from doctors and angels

“Oh, angel. Come on, you know that the size and shape of our corporations don’t actually matter, right? And the things the doctors keep saying have no bearing on your problems. I’ve heard that human doctors love to get on people for their weight if they can’t find anything wrong.” He gently poked Aziraphale’s belly. “Besides. I like your fluff. It suits you.”

Aziraphale blushed and smiled slightly. “I know you do, darling. It’s just, everything these human doctors keep saying is exactly what Gabriel has told be ever since I _got_ this body and it’s hitting all the wrong nerves.”

Crowley fumed internally but managed to keep his anger from his face. He hated Gabriel. “Well, we always knew that Gabriel was a right tosser.” He ran his fingers through the angel’s hair. “All that matters is that you love the way you look. Though,” he continued, a slightly wicked glint in his eye, “it does matter a bit that _I_ love the way you look.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Oh, dearest, you’re a tease.” He sighed. “I know you do. And really, I’m not very upset with my corporation’s shape, only it’s hard to forget 6000 years of ridicule.”

They sat together on the edge of the bed for a while longer before Crowley remembered why he’d come in in the first place. “Oh, hey, speaking of doctors, angel, I think I might’ve found one who will listen.” He tried to speak calmly and with assurance but it came out more hesitantly than he would have liked.

Aziraphale drew back slightly and looked at him, a combination of wariness and hope in his eyes. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” began the demon, “she has a reputation for sticking with difficult cases. And I may have done some, er, _demonic snooping_ , and talked to some of her previous patients.” Aziraphale looked faintly scandalized and he quickly added, “They don’t remember it, of course. Far as they know, they took a nap and had a good dream. Stole that one from you, angel.” Said angel relaxed slightly, but still looked as though he wanted to chastise the demon. Crowley continued, “She’s not a POTS specialist, per se, but she’s diagnosed and treated loads of people for it. Comes highly recommended.”

Aziraphale looked at his demon somewhat suspiciously. “This all sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?”

Crowley flinched, slightly. “There’s two. One, she’s in America. Two, the only appointment I could swing is in three days.”

* * *

The next morning, Aziraphale was starting to regret his decision to take the appointment. They were at Heathrow and the angel found himself finally understanding why the humans hated it so much. The lights were harsh but somehow still not bright enough, it was loud, crowded, and dirty, and no matter where you were it was always at least a seven minute walk to your gate. To top it all off, Aziraphale had a headache. Not just a normal headache either. No, it was the kind that usually left him flat on his back for a day or more.

They had made it through security and were slowly making their way to their gate, Crowley supporting him on one side, cane on the other. Aziraphale felt miserable. Even through the haze caused by the headache he could tell people were staring. A middle-aged-looking being with a cane and obvious difficulty staying upright was not a common sight, especially in an airport. At least people didn’t think he was drunk when he used his cane. That used to really get on his nerves.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you a wheelchair?” asked Crowley for the fifth time.

Aziraphale nodded, not able to easily deal with words at the moment. He wanted to do this under his own power. Or at least, partially under his own power. A wheelchair would be admitting defeat. Crowley had gotten him to take some paracetamol before they left the bookshop but it hadn’t done much this time. Maybe some caffeine would help. “Crowley… could we possibly get some tea?” he asked, slurring a couple of the words.

“Sssssure thing, angel,” replied the demon, a hiss slipping out. He lost some of his control when he was worried, which Aziraphale found quite endearing. Crowley steered them towards a coffee shop with public seating and helped Aziraphale into one of the plastic chairs. As he sat, Aziraphale relaxed a bit, relieved not to have to support his own weight any longer. He sighed.

“What’s your poison, dove?” asked the demon, now towering over him.

“Just a black tea, darling, thank you.”

As Crowley went off to get the tea, Aziraphale let his head sink down onto the table in front of him. It pounded and pulsed right over his skullcap sending waves of pain and nausea through his whole body. Why did today have to be a headache day? You couldn’t lay down on airplanes. He zoned out until he felt a hand drop onto his shoulder.

“Here you go, dove. Irish Breakfast.” Crowley set the paper cup down in front of the angel and sat across from him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Horrid,” replied Aziraphale. “Though to be honest, it’s really only the headache that’s bothering me right now. Everything else seems to be all right.”

“Well, that’s good at least. Now drink up. Don’t want to miss our plane!”

Aziraphale knew that there was very little chance of that. They had gotten to the airport much earlier than was needed, just in case. Since neither of them flew very often, they weren’t aware of the idiosyncrasies of airport etiquette and timelines. ‘ _That being said,_ ’ thought Aziraphale, ‘ _It’s probably for the best that we arrived so early. I’m moving so slowly it’s a miracle we even made it through security._ ’ He took a sip of his tea and felt the hot liquid slip down his throat. A few sips later and he was feeling well enough to get going.

“Any better, love?” asked Crowley. “You don’t look as pale as you did before.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, dear. It’s not gone but I think I can walk on my own now, at least.” He stood carefully, one hand still on the table. “Let’s get to the gate. I’ll feel much more relaxed once we’re there.”

They made it to their gate 40 minutes before boarding was supposed to begin. Crowley got them situated in some of the strangely padded airport chairs and made his way towards the help desk “Jus’ to check on the flight status.” He returned looking strangely self satisfied, but wouldn’t elaborate any more than “Everything’s right on schedule.” They sat next to each other, Aziraphale resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder and sipping his tea, which was miraculously staying just the perfect temperature.

Aziraphale was dozing when the first boarding call echoed through the crackling speakers. He jerked awake, slightly startled. Crowley stood and stretched. “Mornin’, angel. Ready to get on board?”

Crowley, who flew more often than Aziraphale, had explained that people with young children and disabled people often get to board first so they don’t have to fight their way through the crowded plane. They got in line behind a young couple with an infant and an elderly woman in an airport wheelchair.

“See?” whispered Crowley into Aziraphale’s ear. “Told you that using the airport wheelchairs is common enough.” Aziraphale only frowned and gripped his cane a little tighter.

When they got on board, Aziraphale expected to be ushered to the right towards the coach cabin. That’s what their tickets had been, anyway. Instead, the very chipper flight attendant looked at their tickets and lead them down the aisle to the left, into the small first class suites. The angel looked confusedly at Crowley but held his tongue until they were situated, luggage stowed, and seats adjusted.

“Crowley, what’s this?” asked Aziraphale with a slightly accusatory tone. “Not that I’m not pleased, but I thought we were supposed to be flying coach?”

The demon grinned. “’S what I went up to the counter for, angel. Thought I’d see about getting us an upgrade. And what do you know, there was one last first class suite available!”

Aziraphale blushed at the kind gesture but still expressed his concern. “Now dear, I do hope you didn’t put anyone out with this little miracle.”

“Don’t worry, Aziraphale. The people who were going to have this one are being put up in one of the nicer hotels nearby and have a complementary meal voucher to the _very_ fancy restaurant attached to it. They’ll get to go home tomorrow, no problems.” As Aziraphale relaxed, Crowley continued. “You know the best part about these little cubbies? The seats flatten out so you can lay down for real! Figured that might help since your headaches get worse if you’re upright.”

Aziraphale smiled weakly. “Oh my dear, you know me so well. That will be a true blessing once we’re in the air. How long is the flight again?”

“Fifteen hours. All the way to San Francisco. Lucky I could find a non-stop flight at such short notice.”

Aziraphale chuckled, knowing luck had nothing to do with it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long with this chapter, and for its relative shortness. I just moved across the country which is tiring enough on its own without taking into account disability!  
> This is just a little bit of cute stuff to fill in. I hope you enjoy it!

Thirteen hours into the flight, Crowley was beginning to get a bit bored. Aziraphale had been asleep ever since they had reached cruising altitude, barely even stirring when Crowley tried to rouse him for meals. This was a long time, especially for his angel who had only begun sleeping regularly a few months ago, and Crowley had gotten used to fairly constant companionship. He looked at his watch. Two hours to go. The demon glanced around the cabin, considering causing some minor mischief. Coach was out. Not much could be done to increase the amount of low-grade wrath present there that hadn’t already been implemented by the airline (He’d even sent some of the policies they’d come up with in recent years Downstairs as torture ideas). He thought about messing with the pilot but he didn’t want to endanger any lives. Eventually Crowley settled on making the rest of the meals in first class vegetarian.

Finally, the pilot announced they were beginning their final descent. Crowley reached over and gently ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s mussed curls. “Angel, it’s time to wake up.”

Aziraphale made a small huffing noise in his sleep and tried to turn over.

“Not this time, love. You really do have to wake up.” Aziraphale only grumbled. Crowley thought for a moment, grinned, then leaned over and planted a very sloppy kiss on his angel’s lips.

Aziraphale’s eyes shot open at the sudden contact and he sat up quickly, knocking his head against Crowley’s. He braced himself against the wall while he waited out the dizziness that came from sitting up too fast. Crowley felt a little guilty for surprising him, but only a little. It was funny and after all, he _was_ a demon.

“Mornin’ angel,” he said, grin still on his face, rubbing his head where it had made contact with Aziraphale’s.

“Goodness, Crowley, you startled me!” complained the angel. “Couldn’t you have thought of a less surprising mode of waking me?”

“I tried, but you didn’t want to wake up. Hence ‘startling’ you.” Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale’s cheek in a much more chaste manner. “We’re starting our descent. You need to put your seat upright.”

* * *

Aziraphale felt much better once they were through customs and settled into their hotel room. Crowley had miracled them a suite at the San Francisco Ritz-Carlton simply because of its association with the Ritz London. It was a huge, luxurious space with a master bedroom, a living space with a panoramic view of the Bay, a dining room, and a master bathroom. The angel was particularly excited about the large whirlpool bathtub: while it had been a true blessing to be able to lie down on the airplane, the ‘bed’ was by no means kind to his loose joints and American customs was quite frankly ridiculous in its rigor and length.

Aziraphale’s eyes wandered, taking in the sleek, modern apartment. “Crowley, dear, why did you reserve such a large space? This is bigger than my bookshop!” He felt it was a bit ostentatious of them to have such a huge apartment all to themselves.

The demon came back in from the bedroom where he had been putting away their luggage. “Didn’t know how long we were gonna be here. Jus’ wanted to make sure we’d be comfortable while all this went on.” Crowley grinned. “‘Sides, angel. I stole the reservation from some idiot billionaire who was just going to use it for a tryst.”

This made Aziraphale blush furiously. “Oh, you wicked serpent!” he exclaimed, throwing a pillow at Crowley.

“Hey, hey, I kept him from breaking a commandment! That’s gotta count for something!” laughed the demon as he defended himself against the cushion.

Aziraphale mused for a moment. “Hm. Well, I suppose adultery _is_ a worse sin than theft. You can’t even call this theft, either, can you? Since he didn’t own it in the first place? Jolly good, then.” He opened his arms, inviting his demon to join him in the plush armchair he was currently occupying.

Crowley sidled up and slithered into the angel’s lap, long arms wrapping around his neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. “Only the best for you, angel.”

Aziraphale giggled and held his demon. “Thank you, my dear.” He sighed, his mood shifting. “Oh, I do hope this new doctor of yours turns out better than the others. I’m getting truly exhausted with this whole thing.”

“Me too, angel.” Crowley miracled up a bottle of the house champagne and poured them each a flute. “Here’s to better luck, then!”

After champagne, a room service dinner, and a luxuriant bath, Aziraphale settled down into the large, magnificent bed. Even after such a long rest on the plane, he was still tired. As Crowley crawled in next to him, still warm from his own shower, Aziraphale couldn’t help thinking what a lucky being he was. He was in a comfortable bed, contentedly full of fresh seafood and champagne, with the love of his life next to him, and he was going to see someone in a couple days who hopefully would be able help him understand what was wrong with him. A lucky being indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend asked if I could write something exploring the more intimate side of inter-abled relationships. Would that be of interest to any of you?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I went on a hike yesterday, and pushed too hard. On the upside, being bedbound means plenty of time to write! Also, it was super beautiful, and I regret nothing. ;)
> 
> Secondarily, a friend pointed out to me that I accidentally gave Aziraphale bits of my autism. So that's a thing now.

Upon waking up the next day, Aziraphale took stock: no headache, minimal stiffness, mild dizziness. He stood up just to make sure. The room stayed firmly in place. The angel smiled to himself; it was going to be a Good Day. He sat back down on the bed and poked Crowley more firmly than was truly necessary to get him back for the ridiculous kiss on the airplane.

The demon groaned. “Owwww… ’Ziraphale… gimme five more minutes.”

The angel shook his head, even though Crowley still had his face shoved into the pillows. “No, my dear. It’s time for you to get up. We have the whole day free since the appointment isn’t until tomorrow, and I’m feeling quite well. I want to see the city! I’ve never been to San Francisco before.”

Eventually, with much grumbling and complaining, Crowley got up and joined Aziraphale in the sitting room. _No,_ thought the angel, _living room. This is America, after all._

Their day was spent wandering the city. It was unusual to find a major city to which neither of the immortal beings had been, so it was a balancing act trying to find things which Aziraphale would enjoy without boring the demon to discorporation. They fed the birds in Golden Gate Park, walked the bridge itself, walked through the older parts of town, and (much to Aziraphale’s initial delight) discovered that there was an entire museum dedicated to the existence of ice cream. He was disappointed when it turned out just to be a tourist trap with minimal actual consumption of desserts. They were even able to book a tour of Alcatraz Island, about which Crowley was extremely pleased. (“All those people all cooped up in one place, most of them there for less than moral reasons. Veritable playground for demonic activity.”) Aziraphale enjoyed himself thoroughly.

That evening they ate dinner in Chinatown. Aziraphale had some delectable Hong Shao Rou while Crowley ate a couple of Xiâo lóng bāo. The angel couldn’t stop praising the meal the entire evening and Crowley eventually had to shut him up with pastry.

Eventually they made it back to the hotel. Aziraphale was lying on his back in the incredibly comfortable bed. Even though it had been a Good Day, that still didn’t mean he had the stamina of a healthy person and he was truly exhausted. Even so, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He shifted a bit, trying to get more comfortable without waking the demon asleep beside him.

“Angel, why aren’t you asleep?” mumbled a half-asleep Crowley.

“It’s fine, darling. Just feeling a bit nervous and restless, is all. Go back to sleep.”

Crowley cracked open one eye and looked over. Without saying anything, he reached an arm across Aziraphale’s torso and pulled the angel towards him, pressing him tightly into his chest. Aziraphale immediately began to feel calmer as the pressure from the embrace sank into him. He snuggled back into his beloved and rested his head on his demon’s outstretched arm.

“Thank you, my love,” he whispered.

* * *

The next day dawned grey and misty and Aziraphale was looking out over the bay, or at least trying to. It was almost impossible to see anything beyond a few feet from their window. He didn’t notice when Crowley entered the room behind him.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale inhaled. He’d forgotten to breathe but Crowley’s greeting pulled him back to reality. “Ah, hello, my dear,” he hummed. “Just… watching the sky.”

Crowley glanced out the window at the thick fog and frowned. “You know, the sky looks better when you can actually see it, right?” He crossed the room over to where Aziraphale sat.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose you’re right.” The angel continued to stare, fingers worrying his ring.

“It’ll be okay, love. You’ll see. This won’t be like the last ones.” The demon put his hand gently on Aziraphale’s back, rubbing small circles where the wing joints would be if they were manifest.

The angel shifted and pressed back into Crowley’s hand, enjoying the sensation. “I hope you’re right,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

“What sort of day is it today?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. He wasn’t really dizzy at all, but walking so far and for so long the day before was not good to his joints and his heart was not appreciating being vertical. He sighed and finally turned to his beloved. “Not good. Probably a Bad Day, but mostly pain based, not the other things.” He smiled thinly. “A bit too much exercise yesterday, I suppose.”

Crowley began to shift his hands, pressing his long fingers deep into Aziraphale’s flesh, working out any muscle soreness in his shoulders and upper back. The angel sighed as a small amount of the pain bled from him.

“Oh, dearest, that feels wonderful.” He smiled at his demon. They sat there together for another few minutes before Crowley pulled his hands away.

“Angel, we need to get going. Don’t wanna be late, right?”

Aziraphale nodded and turned, capturing Crowley’s mouth in a gentle kiss. “Let’s go, darling.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally happening! Gotta love a doctor who listens.

The taxi ride to the hospital complex was mostly silent. Aziraphale felt utterly exhausted and anxious and couldn’t bring himself to say much. He spent most of the drive leaning against Crowley, letting the warmth of his demon’s body sink into his aching joints. He knew he’d overdone the day before but it had been so much _fun_. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Once they reached their destination, Crowley got out of the car while Aziraphale paid the driver, including a generous tip. Slowly, he turned to maneuver himself out of the vehicle and was met with his demon standing just outside his door, ready to help. The angel had flatly refused to bring his cane with him, much to Crowley’s frustration. He couldn’t quite bring himself to use such an obvious aid while inside a hospital. (“Other people there have it so much worse, Crowley. I don’t want to be viewed as an invalid, not when I can still walk on my own.”) On top of that, he felt guilty for using a mobility aid which hadn’t been prescribed by a physician.

All that being said, it really was quite a Bad Day. Not a Very Bad Day but it was up there. Aziraphale tried not to lean on Crowley as they walked through the lobby towards the lift. The clinic was on the fifth floor, meaning the angel had a brief amount of time to rest against the wall of the elevator as it slowly made its way upwards.

Crowley broke the silence that had fallen during the taxi ride. “Angel? How’re you doing?”

Aziraphale smiled tiredly. “I’m all right, dear.”

Crowley looked like he was going to keep pushing but at that moment the doors opened with a ‘ding,’ letting them out onto the fifth floor. The angel reached for Crowley’s hand and tried to surreptitiously link arms with him. Crowley, being the keen observer that he was, apparently noticed and threaded his slender, serpentine arm around Aziraphale’s waist, helping to take some of the strain off the angel’s painful hips and knees. Together, the odd pair walked through the white, disturbingly familiar hallways until they reached the cardiology clinic.

Once check-in was taken care of and all the entry forms were filled out, they were shown to a small but comfortable examination room. Aziraphale was immediately struck by the differences between this room and the others in which he had found himself recently. It was painted a warm beige, rather than stark, gleaming white, and was full of what appeared to be personal effects: there were photographs of a smiling family, a beautifully crafted analogue clock, and, to the angel’s delight, a whole wall of bookshelves stuffed to the brim with all sorts of tomes and volumes. Aziraphale’s fingers itched to examine them but he held back, not wanting to disturb such an obviously personal collection.

A nurse came in a few moments later to perform an EKG and a few other preliminary tests. He was a bright, cheerful young man and Aziraphale found himself smiling and inadvertently blessing him. No comments were made about his weight, nothing disparaging was said.

Once the pads for the EKG were disconnected and the nurse was gone, Aziraphale felt a firm grip on his shoulder. He turned in his chair to see his demon grinning down at him.

“Damn, angel. This is already going better than the others.”

Aziraphale nodded, smiling slightly. “Indeed it is, my dear. I only hope that this trend will continue.”

“‘Course it will! Room like this? She _has_ to be a good one.”

They waited together for a bit longer. Despite what he had thought earlier, it seemed that today’s extended period of being upright and walking a bit had wreaked more havoc on his body than he’d thought and his heart rate was beginning to rise steadily. With it came a feeling of weakness that made his whole body want to slump in his chair. He forced himself to remain upright.

Finally, after about ten minutes of waiting, the doctor arrived. She was nothing like Aziraphale had expected. She was tall, almost as tall as Crowley, with strawberry blond hair and green eyes that twinkled with a brusque yet cheerful manner. She was smiling effusively at Aziraphale as she walked in.

“Mr. Fell? How are you doing today? I’m Dr. Lynden, but you can call me Maura.” She reached out to shake his hand. Aziraphale took it as lines of German poetry about _der Lindenbaum_ ran through his head.

“Yes, hello. I’m doing all right, thank you very much.” He started to rise to his feet, but Crowley’s hand pressed down on his shoulder, keeping him in place. Probably for the best.

Maura greeted Crowley in much the same manner as she had Aziraphale. Once all the pleasantries were out of the way, she got down to business.

“Right, well then, Mr. Fell. Or, may I call you Augustin? I prefer a more casual rapport with my patients.” She paused, waiting for an answer.

The angel shook himself slightly and answered, “Yes, of course.”

“Good then. Augustin, it looks like you’ve been to a number of doctors prior to this.” She was looking at something on her laptop’s screen.

Aziraphale looked at the ground. “Yes, that’s right.”

Maura glanced up at him. “Don’t look so down! It’s unfortunately pretty normal for people with the issues you’ve described here to go through a few doctors before anyone decides to actually listen.” She made a face, making it clear what she thought of doctors like that. “Believe me, I won’t send you away until we’re certain what’s going on.”

Aziraphale let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and relaxed a bit. Crowley’s hand gave his shoulder a quick squeeze as if to say _“See? I told you this would be better.”_

The cheerful woman looked back at her charts, scrolling through them to familiarize herself with Aziraphale’s (abridged) medical history. “It looks like you’ve been dealing with these symptoms for much of your life. What made you decide to seek medical help now, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The angel started a bit, his shoulders twinging. “Oh. Erm, I suppose because I didn’t really know that it was unusual to feel this way.” This wasn’t something he had been prepared to answer and it was making him uncomfortable. He avoided looking at Maura as he glanced around the room, twisting his ring.

The doctor seemed to notice his discomfort and abandoned this line of questioning. “That’s fairly normal, Augustin. Many people with chronic pain don’t realize that it’s unusual simply because they’ve never lived any other way. Now, looking at your EKG, there aren’t any signs of arrhythmia or severely irregular palpitations, but your blood pressure and heart rate seem to be a bit odd. I’d like to do a test to confirm some of these readings, to get started. It would mean standing for a fair amount of time. Are you feeling up to that?”

Aziraphale nodded, finally looking fully at Maura.

“Good then.” She went over the the examination table and lowered it so it was at around the same height as your average bed. “Lay down here, if you would please.”

She continued speaking as Aziraphale complied. “Some people call this ‘the poor man’s tilt table test’ but I find that rather classist. I just call it the standing test. Essentially what we’re going to do is take your heart rate and blood pressure at rest and while standing. It’s similar in effect to the diagnostic test for POTS.”

Aziraphale nodded nervously again as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm and attached a pulse oximeter to his right index finger. She glanced at the readings from the pulse-ox and then back to the angel lying on the table.

“That simply won’t do. Anthony, is there anything you or your husband do to help him relax?”

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. Both of them were blushing at the term ‘husband,’ but the demon seemed to recover quickly.

“Yeah, sure. Loves books. Sometimes we read together when he’s feeling anxious. He owns a bookshop.” This wasn’t entirely false. Usually it was Aziraphale reading to Crowley when his demon got anxious (which happened rather often), but occasionally it did happen the other way around.

Maura beamed. “Oh how lovely! I adore books, as you can probably tell.” She gestured at her shelves. “Why don’t you read to Augustin for a bit and see if we can’t get him a little calmer?”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale questioningly. The angel smiled and replied, “That would be lovely. Anything you think I would like, my dear?”

The demon went over to the shelves and browsed for a moment before grinning and pulling out a book. “How about a little Shakespeare, love?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! It's been a heck of a week.

_The Tempest_ had always been Aziraphale and Crowley’s go-to Shakespeare when they couldn’t agree on a comedy or a tragedy. Because of this, it held a special place for both of them. When Crowley pulled it off the shelf and began reading, Aziraphale immediately began to relax. His demon began somewhere near the end of the first act and Aziraphale was smiling with delight in no time at all.

Once Sebastian, Adrian, and Gonzalo had stopped arguing over the whereabouts of Tunis versus Carthage, Dr. Lynden decided it was time to begin the test.

“All right, Augustin. I’m going to start by taking some baseline readings after you’ve lain still and at rest for a full fifteen minutes. Please try not to fall asleep. Anthony, you’re welcome to talk with him, but try not to make him laugh too much since that will affect the results.”

The fifteen minutes passed by slowly for the angel. Crowley talked with him a bit but mostly he relaxed, closed his eyes, and thought about times long past. At the fifteen minute mark, Maura started taking her readings.

“Mmmmhm! There we go. 82 bpm average. Those are done. Now, I need you to stand up. Don’t worry, if you feel you’re going to pass out you can sit right back down and we’ll be right here to catch you. Anthony, would you care to help spot? I’m sure Augustin trusts you more than he does me at this point in our relationship.” She turned to Crowley as she said this, a hand resting on Aziraphale’s wrist.

The demon nodded and moved in beside his angel, ready to catch him if he fell. Aziraphale felt a wave of relief flood him, ridding him of an anxiety he hadn’t known existed. If Crowley was there to catch him, he knew he’d be okay.

The doctor nodded and turned back to Aziraphale. “Okay. Up we go!”

She reached out to steady the angel as he stood, not letting him sit for a moment to get used to being vertical as he usually did before standing. Nothing too dramatic happened. The room spun slightly but nothing out of the ordinary.

Maura was speaking again. “I’ll take the readings again at two minutes, five minutes, and ten minutes, then we’ll look at the results. Until then, I just need you to remain standing for as long as you can. Ideally the whole ten minutes, okay?”

Aziraphale nodded and inhaled deeply. It wasn’t actually that bad today. He felt fairly normal in terms of heart rate increase and dizziness. As he stood, Maura and Crowley chatted.

At two minutes she took more readings. The angel felt okay. His heart rate was perhaps a bit quick.

At five minutes, Aziraphale was starting to waver. His legs began to feel slightly as though they may not be able to hold him for much longer. His back and hips began to hurt.

At seven minutes, he almost fell. His eyesight began to get a bit blurry and he tipped a bit to one side. Crowley reached out to keep him upright for a moment, grasping his shoulder and whispering words of encouragement.

Finally, at ten minutes, the last readings were taken. Aziraphale all but collapsed, falling halfway onto the examination table, halfway into Crowley’s arms. He was dizzy, exhausted, and his hands and feet felt like they were swollen to twice their normal size. Not to mention his racing heart. Overall, a pretty normal reaction to standing in one place for ten minutes.

“That was great, Augustin. Thanks for hanging in there for the whole time.” She looked down at her charts and whistled. “Yeah, it seems like POTS is likely. Of course, it’s not _technically_ allowed to diagnose you with just that test, so we’ll have to do another few tests and analyses before we can officially say you have it.” She turned to her computer and began typing away. “We’ll need to do a one-week Holter monitor, as well as a few blood tests to rule out any other ailments.”

Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley. Blood tests were tricky. He didn’t know if he even _had_ normal human blood. His demon looked at him and nodded slightly in a silent assurance. _We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry._

* * *

In the end, Aziraphale left the appointment with a strange contraption attached to his chest and a follow-up scheduled for the next week. It appeared that Crowley’s foresight in reserving their apartment indefinitely would come in handy after all.

The drive back to the hotel was, once again, mostly silent. Aziraphale appeared to be deep in thought and Crowley didn’t want to disturb him. Once they reached their room though, he decided it was okay to start talking.

“Well, angel, that seemed like it went down significantly better than a lead balloon.” He smiled, remembering that first conversation on the walls over Eden.

The angel glanced at him, not making eye contact. “Yes, it seems so.” He carefully made his way into the living area and sat down on the armchair he had claimed as his. Crowley could see how his joints were hurting and remembered Aziraphale telling him about it that morning.

He walked over to the other armchair and leaned against it in what was supposed to be a seductive manner but which really just served to make Aziraphale laugh. “Love, why don’t we take a bath? I can tell your hips and knees are hurting you. I’ll miracle the thing on your chest to keep dry.”

His angel finally looked him in the eye, appreciation and love shining in his expression.

“Oh darling, that sounds lovely.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so terribly sorry about how long this took to get out. I spilled water on my computer and am currently stuck using my family's computer when it's not in use by others. 😅  
> I finally have an appointment to bring it to the shop tomorrow, and I live in hope that I didn't destroy it too badly and I'll have it fixed up soon.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter focuses more on the autism-ish stuff that I gave Aziraphale, because I've been having difficulty on that front recently and needed to vent. Hope it's still to your liking. The normal "plot" (though that's a generous word for it) will resume in the next chapter.
> 
> I hope you're all staying safe and happy.
> 
> Love and Spoons to you all!

The next several days were filled with Crowley trying to keep his Angel’s spirits up. The machine on Aziraphale’s chest served as a constant reminder of the importance of this trip and of his perceived ability. At first, Crowley was sure that Aziraphale would be encouraged by the steps they had taken towards a diagnosis, but instead it seemed to have increased the angel’s normal anxiety tenfold. He did his best, though when faced with an angel on the verge of a meltdown, there was only so much one demon could do.

It was during one such occasion (Aziraphale had started shaking halfway through a lovely dinner by the bay, prompting Crowley to miracle them back to their rooms without even finishing his sake) that the demon found himself with a lap full of crying angel, curled together in their fluffy king bed at the Ritz-Carlton. He held Aziraphale close and whispered reassuring words into his hair, stroking and rubbing circles on his back all the while. He knew better than to use light pressure. Anything less than ‘quite firm, thank you dearest’ would have just made everything worse. The follow-up appointment was the day after tomorrow and Crowley didn’t know what to do. He’d already tried talking to Aziraphale about what was upsetting him but it only ever resulted in the angel refusing to meet his eyes and starting to fidget with his hands and ring. This time, though, Crowley decided he was simply not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. Once Aziraphale had calmed down enough to communicate more effectively, Crowley kissed his poor angel on the cheek and took a deep breath.

“Angel, I know you’re upset, but I really think we need to have a talk—”

He was cut off abruptly by Aziraphale shaking his head in a manner that some might even consider violent.

Crowley pressed on. “Aziraphale, we both promised that we’d be more open and honest with each other about our feelings. I can’t help unless I understand what’s upsetting you. And to be honest about my own feelings here, this is making me pretty bloody upset myself!”

Aziraphale flinched at the slightly raised voice which Crowley had used and shook his head again, more calmly this time. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. “I don’t want to _not_ talk, I just don’t want to _talk_.” He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands into them. “Oh bother, I’m not making any sense…”

Crowley’s eyes widened a bit as he began to understand. “Oh, angel, if that’s what’s bothering you…” A wave of his hand summoned the complementary pad of paper and pen that came with the room and he gently laid them down on the angel’s lap.

Aziraphale took his hands away from his eyes and looked down at the new weight. After taking a moment to register what was there, the corners of his mouth twitched up just a tad, wrinkling his salt-stained cheeks.

_“My dear, you always know just what I need.”_ He wrote in his decisive yet flowing script. He paused before continuing. _“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you write, too? The sound of other voices is… uncomfortable at the moment.”_

Crowley nodded, and grabbed his phone, typing out his reply. _“Of course, angel. Anything for you.”_

Aziraphale smiled again, a little bigger this time, though still fleeting. _“I’m so terribly sorry about all of this. I can’t imagine this last week has been much fun for you at all.”_

Crowley shook his head. _“Aziraphale, you know very well that this trip isn’t about fun. It’s about getting you the help and attention you need. If that means there aren’t any late nights out drinking or trivia contests to throw, then so be it.”_

_“I don’t know what’s come over me these last few days. Having this…_ thing _on my chest has put me dreadfully on edge. It’s like it’s a beacon to the entire world, telling them there’s something wrong with me.”_ The angel curled in on himself a little after handing the pad to Crowley.

_“Angel,”_ began the demon, _“don’t take this the wrong way, but how is this any different than your cane? I know it took some getting used to, but you’re fairly comfortable using it out in public now. What makes the monitor any different?”_

Aziraphale cringed when he read the note. _“I suppose it has to do with the involvement of a doctor. Canes aren’t often a direct result of a doctor’s visit. This monitor is a direct result of requiring help from someone else. A human, no less! I know you say I deserve the help of others but after 6,000 years without any support, you accepted, my dear, it’s still difficult to accept.”_

Crowley read this last note with a light ire building in his gut. How dare anyone make his angel think he isn’t worthy of help and support! He took a breath to calm himself and typed his reply. _“I know how hard that is for you, angel, and I’m so proud of you for working to fix it. It’s absolutely a reasonable anxiety to have. You know I’ll never judge you but there are some idiot humans and other entities out there who would jump at the chance to take out their own pent up anger and hatred on someone they view as weaker than themselves. They’re wrong, of course. You’re the strongest being to have ever lived.”_ He kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head as he handed his mobile to the angel.

Aziraphale took a shaky breath. _“Thank you, my dear. I think it gets easier to accept every time you say something like that.”_ There was a pause as he tapped the pen lightly on the paper before he began writing again. _“Do you think we could have a quiet day in tomorrow? The world seems a bit much right now.”_ He leaned harder into his demon, apparently taking great pleasure in the pressure.

The demon leaned right back, looping his arms firmly around his beloved. _“Of course, angel. Anything you like.”_


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally happening!  
> I intentionally didn't put in any numbers because comparison is the thief of joy and contentment. (Aka, I didn't want people to see numbers in the story and start comparing themselves or others to it.)
> 
> I haven't actually had a TTT yet, so I hope I portrayed it at least mostly accurately.
> 
> Love and spoons to you all.

The day after their written conversation was just what the doctor (or in this case, the angel) ordered: they slept late, ordered room service for breakfast, and lounged in bed with Aziraphale reading and Crowley fomenting discord on social media. The angel wasn’t all that hungry and, considering their late breakfast, the supernatural couple decided to forego luncheon in favor of a good solid cuddle. Dinner was a simple affair, ordered in from a nearby restaurant which Crowley said had good reviews on Yelp.

All things considered, it was a near perfect day. Just right to settle the angel’s nerves surrounding the imminent appointment with Dr. Lynden. Crowley had used a not-so-minor miracle to make the doctors believe that blood tests were simply unnecessary in this particular case and as a result, the findings of the monitor still attached to Aziraphale’s chest were paramount. This, of course, lead to more anxiety on the angel’s part.

The couple sat next to each other in the waiting room of the cardiology clinic at the hospital. It had been a relatively unremarkable morning, all things considered. Aziraphale was feeling much better since his meltdown a couple days prior and they had eaten a lovely breakfast of real English scones and jam. (The Ritz-Carlton did not serve English scones, but that didn’t matter all that much.) Aziraphale was surprisingly calm. Much calmer than Crowley who was bouncing his leg incessantly, echoing Aziraphale’s usual nervous stims.

“Really, dear, you needn’t fret so much,” said Aziraphale, calmly resting his hand on his demon’s shaking knee.

“‘M not fretting!” was the nervous and altogether too loud reply. Aziraphale looked up and made sure that none of the other people waiting around them were disturbed by the outburst.

“You _are_ dear, and that’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s just completely unnecessary.” He patted his partner’s leg. “Things will be what they will be.”

Crowley huffed and frowned. “Now you just sound like one of those buggers upstairs.”

Aziraphale just smiled and continued rubbing Crowley’s now still thigh.

Soon, a receptionist called Aziraphale’s human name and they were brought back into the sweet little office lined with books. It had come to the angel’s attention that it was incredibly unusual for doctors at American hospitals to have their own specific offices, but he was grateful for this one nonetheless.

A different nurse from their last visit removed the monitor from Aziraphale’s chest, resulting in a deep sense of relief from the angel and a spontaneous feeling of goodwill in everyone within a fifteen-foot radius. After this she performed a number of other tests which were apparently routine, made small talk with the pair, and left, assuring them that the doctor would be in shortly.

While they waited, Aziraphale noticed Crowley wasn’t getting any calmer. “Darling, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor with all your pacing.” He reached out and pulled him into his lap.

Crowley looked surprised at the forwardness of his usually reserved angel but settled into his arms anyway. “‘M sorry, angel. Dunno why I’m so nervous. I’m not the one getting important diagnoses.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath at that. He didn’t know why he was so calm, either. Weren’t they a pair? He ran his fingers through Crowley’s dark hair in a motion which always calmed his anxious serpent of a partner. Crowley sighed into the touch.

After about three minutes of cuddling, Crowley seemed calmer. He stood, giving his angel a peck on the cheek and a whispered “Thank you” before sitting in the other chair next to Aziraphale.

It was another five minutes before Dr. Lynden came into the room, slightly breathless.

“Sorry about the slight wait. I was in surgery until about twenty minutes ago.” She flopped down onto her desk chair. “Well! Let’s get to it, shall we?”

Aziraphale nodded and smiled, reaching out to hold Crowley’s hand once again. “It’s good to see you again, Doctor. We’ve had an exciting week!”

Maura smiled back at the couple. “I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying your time in the States! I certainly liked England, the couple times I’ve been there.” She typed a few strokes on her keyboard and glanced over the charts. “Okayyyy, let’s see. Looks like the monitor results have been uploaded. Great.” She tapped a few more strokes and scrolled through her screen, brow furrowed.

Eventually, she looked up. “Well, Augustin, the findings here certainly seem to support POTS as a preliminary diagnosis.” She turned her monitor to face the couple and continued to explain the readings for a while. After she seemed satisfied that Aziraphale and Crowley understood what the readings meant she turned the monitor back and clicked over to another screen.

“I’d like to get the TTT done while you’re here, if you wouldn’t mind. It’d be a whole lot easier than getting yet another appointment scheduled.”

Aziraphale nodded, eyes focusing on the bridge of her nose. “That sounds all right to me. Dear?” He turned to look at his partner.

Crowley nodded as well and look back at Maura, trepidation clear on his face even with his dark glasses.

“No need to look so worried, Anthony! Remember the standing test? It’ll be similar to that, but without the risk of Augustin falling,” she reassured the nervous demon.

“Nn- well, yeah, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant for him was it?”

Aziraphale interrupted him before he could get any further. “Darling, it’ll be all right. I trust the good Doctor, as should you.” The tone of his voice changed from calming to something with an edge of desperation. “Besides. This will give us some answers.”

Crowley nodded sharply once again and stood, Aziraphale’s hand in his.

* * *

Crowley was still nervous but the longing in his angel’s voice when he talked of answers made him pull himself together. Once he saw the actual tilt table though, his anxiety returned. It looked far too similar to a medieval torture device for the demon’s comfort.

The doctor and a nurse helped Aziraphale onto the device. It was essentially a table with a shelf at the bottom and three thick bands running across it. After hooking up several apparatuses for taking measurements, they laid Aziraphale flat and said something about relaxing and taking readings. Crowley shook himself and tried to concentrate on what was going on around him. Maura was talking to Aziraphale.

“We’ll just have you lay here for a while while we get some baseline readings. I’m sure you’re used to EKGs by now, so you know what these pads are. Essentially, we’re going to measure your heart rate and blood pressure throughout this whole thing and hopefully that will tell us what we need to know.”

Crowley hovered uncomfortably in the corner of the room. He knew he would just get in the way if he was nearer (he wasn’t even really supposed to be in the room, a fact which all the humans in attendance conveniently forgot) but nevertheless, he wished he could be by his angel’s side. After about fifteen minutes of being horizontal, they tipped the table to around 80˚. Crowley kept a close eye on Aziraphale’s face, watching for signs of discomfort. He had said it was an Okay Day that morning but that didn’t mean Crowley didn’t still worry. The angel didn’t look to be in any particular distress at first. His cheeks stayed their normal rosy hue and he didn’t seem to be breathing any more heavily than normal.

After around ten minutes of this, Aziraphale seemed to be having a bit more difficulty. There was sweat on his forehead and he looked flushed. The doctor spoke to Aziraphale to reassure him that everything he was experiencing was normal or at least expected. Crowley wished that she would reassure _him._

Finally, _finally_ , after about fifteen more minutes they laid Aziraphale down again and announced that the test was over five minutes after that.

“Anthony?” That was Maura. “You can go over to Augustin now. I know you must be worried. He should stay lying down for another few minutes while I look over the readings.

Crowley didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He was at Aziraphale’s side in a second, grasping his love’s hand in his.

Aziraphale smiled up at Crowley. “Hello, my dear. Did you do all right? You were so very nervous.”

Crowley smiled crookedly back at his angel. “‘M fine, angel. I should be asking you that, not the other way around. How was it?”

Aziraphale was thoughtful for a moment. “Not… not very pleasant, but not as bad as I had expected either. I didn’t start getting dizzy until several minutes in and then it was only very mild. I suppose it’s because it is an Okay Day. I can’t imagine how terrible that could have been on a Bad Day.”

The two chatted idly for a few minutes until Dr. Lynden came back over to them.

“Well, Augustin,” she said, “I can officially say that you have POTS. That’s sort of good news and bad news at the same time, I suppose.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. The principality just nodded and continued looking in Maura’s direction as she continued to speak.

“There are plenty of ways to help improve quality of life, some of which you might have even already implemented. One of the main ones, and one of the most simple, is to increase the salt in your diet along with your water intake. This will help increase blood volume.”

They talked with the doctor for several more minutes about implications and treatment options before it was time for them to go. Before they left, Maura took out a business card and wrote something on the back of it.

“Here’s the card of a colleague of mine. He’s a rheumatologist. A good one. I’m going to refer you to him for the other issues you mentioned. The number on the back is my personal office. Feel free to call me any time you have any questions. I might not answer right away but I’ll certainly do so as soon as may be. I’m going to do some research into doctors in the UK who might be more… understanding of your particular situation so you can have a doctor closer to home. Can’t have you flying all the way out here every time you need a check-up!” She laughed lightly. “I’ll be in touch.”

They said their goodbyes and headed back to their hotel with hands entwined, feeling the burden of the unknown lift from their shoulders.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have my computer back, finally! Very exciting stuff.
> 
> My apologies for this one, it's COMPLETELY just me shoving my own existential crises on Aziraphale to try and work through them. I wrote it very sleepy, so I have not idea what it actually sounds like. XD  
> I have a doctor's appointment finally in a couple weeks, and the issues Aziraphale is having here are pretty much what I've been dealing with since the appointment was scheduled.
> 
> Anywho! Love and spoons to you all. I hope you're holding up all right in these crazy times.

The next couple of days were calm ones for Aziraphale and Crowley, mostly filled with gentle walks by the bay, meals at little hole-in-the-wall restaurants, and relaxed cuddling in bed. Receiving the POTS diagnosis had indeed provided Aziraphale with a certain level of relief, though the initial giddiness was wearing off. Even with all the stress and anxiety that was the result of many unpleasant doctors, he was glad to have words to define his condition.

Words were something that Aziraphale adored. It was why he loved books so much. Even before the humans had developed writing systems, words had fascinated the angel. When he thought about how he felt prior to this diagnosis, the words which came to mind included ‘agitated,’ ‘petrified,’ ‘infuriated,’ and ‘despondent.’ Now, post-diagnosis, the words he found more apt were words like ‘joyous,’ ‘thankful,’ ‘liberated,’ and ‘anxious.’ It was curious to him that he was still feeling anxious. The principality couldn’t quite place where said anxiety was coming from, so he tried to put it from his mind and focus on just being with Crowley.

* * *

On the third day after the diagnosis, the pair were sitting in the living space of their apartment at the Ritz-Carlton, sipping a Napa Pino Noir and watching the sun set beyond the bay. Or rather, Aziraphale was watching the sunset. Crowley was watching his angel. He’d noticed an increase in Aziraphale’s fidgeting over the last couple days and was getting slightly worried. Usually behavior like that meant that Aziraphale was heading towards a panic attack or something similar but everything was going so well, he didn’t know why one would be coming. Aziraphale didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so instead Crowley tried to distract him with good wine and not-so-good company.

Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, Aziraphale slid farther and farther into his anxiety over the course of the evening. He was twitchy and kept rubbing at his waistcoat and turning his ring on his little finger. Crowley saw the storm break over his angel’s head. It wasn’t violent or loud. This time it was quiet and sudden. Aziraphale froze and stared fixedly out at the foggy San Francisco Bay, hands tightening on each other as he clasped them together, fingernails digging little half moons into his flesh.

Crowley jumped into action as calmly as one could and still call it jumping. He slid from his chair and knelt in front of Aziraphale just to the left of the angel’s knees. Demon hands covered angelic ones, gently prying fingers away from skin. Aziraphale looked pointedly away from him, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

“C-Crowley, I d-d-don’t know why I f-f-feel this-s way! Everything is fine. Everything is _fine_!” The end of his brief rant was shouted and caused a couple sparks to fly out from his corporation.

The demon looked up at his beloved angel and tried to stay calm. He patted Aziraphale’s hands and lifted the pale knuckles to his lips, pressing small, tender kisses to each one.

“Angel, look at me. Not my eyes, I know that’s uncomfortable for you.”

Aziraphale glanced towards his demon, allowing him to see his tear-streaked face.

“Obviously, not everything is fine.” Aziraphale sucked in a breath and Crowley continued. “Not everything’s fine, and that’s okay. Let’s just… figure this out, yeah? Tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.”

Aziraphale shuddered with the effort of trying to stay in control. “I… I don’t know… I was s-so happy when Dr. Lynden told us that it was real, but… now I _have_ to believe it. There’s no chance this will just… go away…”

Crowley closed his eyes for a moment to try and parse that new information. “Angel… Let me see if I’m hearing you correctly. Are you saying that you’re this upset because there’s no more _plausible deniability_? That now that you’ve gotten a diagnosis, you’re getting yourself worked up over the fact that you now know this won’t go away?”

Aziraphale shrank away slightly from Crowley and the demon reassessed his tone of voice. Trying for calm, collected, and logical this time, he tried again. “It’s been like this for you for more than 6000 years, right? I guess the POTS stuff only started a few hundred years ago, but still. You already knew it wasn’t going away.”

“Yes, I suppose I did, but now it’s _real_! I can’t tell myself, _‘maybe it will get better soon,’_ or _‘this is bound to be the worst of it.’_ Now I’m stuck knowing that I’m really truly broken because of something the Archangels did six-thousand years ago!”

At this, the demon rose from his kneeling position at Aziraphale’s feet to gently cup his hands around the angel’s cheeks. “Aziraphale. Angel. You may not be able to tell yourself it might get better anymore, but _now_ you can say, with absolute certainty, that we know better how to move forward than we ever have in our entire existences. We have resources now, angel. Ways to help you feel better. Ways to make things easier for you. You have justification, just like you’ve always wanted. Now you can tell those human idiots who question you in the park to very kindly sod off because, while you don’t _need_ a doctor’s note to use a cane, it sure can be empowering to wave it in their faces while you’re whacking them over the head with said cane. And yes, I know you won’t be doing anything of the sort but trust me, if I was in your shoes every human or angel who questioned my wants and needs like they do yours would get a good wallop.” He finally ceased his rant, breathing somewhat harder than before. “And angel,” he continued after getting his breathing under control, “you are _not_ broken.”

Aziraphale was staring at him, gaze flicking between his eyes and his chin. He swallowed before speaking. “You— yes. Yes.” He seemed to be having difficulty gathering the words he wanted. Crowley just stood there and dropped his hands to his sides.

Aziraphale found what he wanted to say at last. “Yes. You’re right, of course. You usually are. Things will be better. I know that. It’s just such a shift in such a short amount of time.”

Crowley held his arms out for the angel if he wanted a hug. Apparently he did, because Aziraphale came forward and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s thin torso, nuzzling into the demon’s chest.

Crowley wrapped his own arms snake-like around Aziraphale’s shoulders and brought his hand up to card through the blond curls. “And if I haven’t made it clear already over the last several months,” he continued, “feeling anxious about changes is fine. Absolutely fine. Healthy even, sometimes. So even when you’re feeling like you want to throw something at a wall, or break down and cry, things will be better. I promise.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all.  
> So, this is the last chapter. It is both short and a long time in coming, for which I apologize.
> 
> It's been a hell of a couple months. My health has been shit, work has been lovely but hectic, and we had to evacuate due to forest fires.  
> On top of all that, my rheumatologist won't diagnose me with EDS even though she says I probably have it because "it's not worth it since there's no cure." So that's nice. I know several of you reading this series have chronic health issues. Do you have any thoughts on that? I'm trying to figure out what to do next.
> 
> Love and Spoons to you all! I hope you enjoy the end of this particular story, even it it is short.

It was over a week after the diagnosis when the secretary from the rheumatologist’s office called Crowley’s mobile with a referral from Dr. Lynden. Thankfully, he was in San Francisco too which made things significantly easier on the celestial couple. Aziraphale was slowly coming to terms with his diagnosis, but seven days is not long for a human, much less a being over 6,000 years old, and certainly not enough to be moving again so soon.

The call came just after lunch, interrupting an excellent snog. Crowley answered it only at the behest of his angel, though still with much grumbling. Upon realizing who it was though, he became much more civil and handed the phone over to Aziraphale.

Phone numbers were exchanged, small talk made, and addresses given. When Aziraphale hung up the phone, he had (by some miracle) secured an appointment for the next week.

It all went rather quickly after that. The day came and the pair traveled the short distance to the clinic. The appointment was rather shorter than the estimated three hours since Crowley had miracled them to forget about blood tests and other genetic testing. Handy that there wasn’t a genetic test for the type he thought Aziraphale might have, anyway.

While an efficient and effective doctor, he was nothing special. Not like Dr. Lynden with her walls of books and comfortable smile. He was, however, cheerful, kind, and courteous, and best of all, he believed Aziraphale right from the start. The diagnostic process was surprisingly quick. A few range of motion tests and some questions and Aziraphale was diagnosed and given a list of criteria to help them look for appropriate physical therapists back in England. While not pleasant, per se, the process for an EDS diagnosis was significantly less painful, both emotionally and physically, than the POTS testing, a fact for which Aziraphale (as well as Crowley) was extremely grateful.

* * *

The evening after the EDS diagnosis found an angel sitting in an armchair with a demon curled around him in a way that shouldn’t be possible for human anatomy. There was a rare clear sky over San Francisco Bay and the pair was watching the sky gradually turn dark. Crowley gazed at the angel in his arms, relishing in the peace that seemed to radiate from his companion.

“Angel?”

“Hm?”

Crowley thought about what he was about to say. He hoped it wouldn’t come off as patronizing, but he wasn’t sure how Aziraphale would take it. Finally, he decided to bite the metaphorical bullet and just say it.

“I’m proud of you.”

Aziraphale turned his head away from the glowing orange water and towards his demon. “What for, my dear boy?” He didn’t seem offended yet. Crowley counted that as a win.

“Y’know. For doing all this. Keeping going even when everything was so confusing and upsetting.”

Aziraphale looked at him for a moment, then pulled him into a kiss. Once he relinquished the demon’s lips, he spoke quietly. “You know, I wouldn’t have even started looking for something like this without your encouragement. I feel so very good about all this now, and I have you to thank.”

Crowley would deny it to the end of time, but his cheeks reddened just a smidge under his angel’s gaze.

“’S alright. Just wanted to help, angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t answer him. He just wrapped his arms more tightly around his beloved and looked back out to sea, watching as the sun set over the bay and relishing in the beauty of this Earth, guarded by a not-broken angel and a kind demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two more stories in this series planned, more may happen, the planned ones may not, who knows. I write at the will of the muses. As it is though, I seem to only write when I need to work through something, so it's very possible that I'll be trying something else before I continue this series.  
> If you have any topics which would fit into this little AU, let me know. I love prompts!
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and for your lovely and thought-provoking comments. I really value your input!
> 
> Once again, love and spoons to you all. (:


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